


Homecoming

by CanaryCry



Series: Human Connection [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Airplane Sex, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Family, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, M/M, Medical Procedures, Meet the Family, Meeting the Parents, Muslim Character, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Protectiveness, Self-Sacrifice, Serious Injuries, Sex, Shower Sex, Spies & Secret Agents, Spyral, Suspicions, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:51:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 83,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4923808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanaryCry/pseuds/CanaryCry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick brings Tiger home to meet the batfamily. Bruce is... not impressed. Things quickly spiral out of control when family members take sides, secrets are thrown into the open and Jason takes a personal interest in defending his brother's surprise boyfriend from their father's distrust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm messing with canon quite a bit here. For instance, I'm retaining the preboot character relationships for the most part (most notably Cass and Steph's inclusion in the family), except for the bit with Tim and Jason being suspiciously friendly that's come up in the New 52. Bruce did suffer from amnesia like he currently is in canon, but here he's already recovered from it.
> 
> Also, this is certainly set in the future past what we currently have in the Grayson comics, and will no doubt become completely AU at some point.

“This is a terrible idea,” Tiger grumbled from the passenger seat while Dick keyed in the security code for the Wayne Manor gates.

“So I've heard all morning.” Dick gently accelerated the car through the gate, listening to the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. “Honestly, though, I think dating behind my family's back is going to cause more harm in the long run. Bruce might even pull out his _I'm not angry, I'm disappointed_ voice, and that's even worse than when he yells. Mostly.”

“You told me your siblings will try to kill me.”

“ _Try_ being the operative word.”

“I was not concerned for my safety,” Tiger replied. “I would hate to murder your family in front of you.”

“Tiger, one of them is ten. No one's gonna murder anyone. I promise.”

“And the others?”

“Eh, Tim won't kill you. He'd just systematically ruin your life if you ever broke my heart. Jason's a shooter. But Tim and I can keep him in check. Most of the time.”

“And your sister?”

“She can be reasoned with,” Dick said lightly. “Which is just as well, because none of us can take her in a fight.”

Tiger scoffed. “I repeat this is a terrible idea. If you father even lets me into the house.”

“That'll be Alfred's call,” Dick corrected. “I can convince him. Just don't make any sudden moves. He has a shotgun.”

“I would rather not kill an old man today.”

Dick brought the car to park in front of the manor. “You'll be fine. If it comes to a fight, aim to incapacitate, not kill. Otherwise I'll be very upset with you.”

“And not with your family?”

“Of course I would be.” Dick lifted Tiger's hand from where it had gripped the seat, and kissed his palm. “But it won't come to that. I can occasionally be the voice of reason in this family.”

“That does not fill me with confidence.” Tiger glanced up at a window. “Is that your youngest brother? He is glaring at me.”

“Yep, that's Damian.” Dick squeezed Tiger's hand. “I can calm them down, okay? Trust me. Please?”

Tiger sighed. His weakness to Dick's pleading was a recent discovery for both of them.

“It'll be fine,” Dick soothed him. “I promise. Given time, they may even grow to like you. Especially Damian.”

“I will try to keep an open mind,” Tiger finally agreed.

Dick gave him a quick kiss. “All right.” He took the key out of the ignition. “Let's get this show on the road.”

* * *

“You brought an assassin into the house?!” Damian's tiny body was coiled up at the foot of the stairs, ready to pounce on Tiger, who, to his credit, didn't appear terribly concerned by the possibility.

“He's not an assassin,” Dick said patiently, stepping between the two. “He's a spy. His name is Tiger.”

Tiger regarded the angry miniature human over Dick's shoulder. “...hello.”

“Right, real intimidating.” Jason was watching the whole exchange from the bannister on the second floor.

“Todd, _you_ say hello to people and you are...” Damian trailed off, his face pinching into an even deeper scowl.

“Aww, you think I'm intimidating? I knew you cared.”

“That's Jason,” Dick told Tiger. “He's legally dead so don't go telling any police officers you saw him.”

“I do not usually speak to police,” Tiger replied.

“Yeah, that's probably Spy 101,” said Tim, who had come to lean on the bannister next to Jason. “I'm Tim, by the way.”

“Where are the girls?” Dick asked him.

“Cass wants to fight your boyfriend,” Tim replied. “Steph is trying to talk her out of it.”

“I succeeded.” Stephanie shoved her away into Tim's personal space, Cassandra close on her heels.

“For now,” Cassandra replied. She gave Dick a look, which Dick translated as _I'm gonna fight your boyfriend as soon as he breathes the wrong way because why the hell would you bring an enemy spy into the house_.

“I assume Dad's downstairs?” Dick asked.

“He's pretty mad,” Tim replied. “It's probably best he stays down there.”

“He'll come around,” said Dick. “He can never stay mad at me. If he tries, I can always just pull the 'you left me alone in enemy territory' card again.”

“You pull that at least five times a day already,” Tim said.

“You're gonna wear it out at this rate,” Jason added. “I dread the day I can't watch you take the old man down a peg.”

Dick grinned up at them. “I bet I can get three more months of mileage out of it. And, by then, he'll have done something else to feel guilty about.”

“That is true,” Jason admitted. “You know what? Since it'll piss him off, I'll be the first to welcome you to the family, Tiger.”

“Thank you,” Tiger replied, the very picture of politeness. “I think.”

“This is ridiculous,” Damian cut in.

“Maybe so, Master Damian,” Alfred replied, stepping in from a doorway that led to one of the numerous secret Batcave entrances in the manor, “but Master Tiger is your brother's guest. Shall we move this discussion somewhere more civilised?”

“Good idea, Alfie,” Dick said. “Come on, guys. Let's keep our knives sheathed and talk this out like reasonable people.”

“No one in this house is reasonable,” Jason replied while the group below climbed up the stairs. “Except Alfred, of course.”

“And me,” Cassandra interjected. No one was willing to argue with her on that.

“Master Bruce has been made aware of your presence, sirs,” Alfred said as he led them to a sitting room already set up with tea and biscuits. “He is presently occupied, but I did manage to extract a promise to join you as soon as he was able.”

“Time to make some popcorn,” Jason said, rubbing his hands. Dick elbowed him.

Alfred poured cups of tea for everyone. “That can be arranged, sir, if you so wish.”

“Excellent.”

Alfred left, probably to make Jason's popcorn. He tended to take Jason's requests seriously, especially the ridiculous ones.

Dick rolled his eyes, leading Tiger to sit on the couch. “Keep the crunching to a minimum, thanks. I generally prefer to hear the person I'm talking to.”

“I'd be doing you a favour, Goldilocks.”

“How long'd it take you to come up with that one?”

“Three weeks.” Jason's face betrayed no signs of bullshitting. Not that it meant anything in this family.

“Four,” Cassandra corrected.

“He has a list of all the names he comes up with for you,” Tim added.

Jason shoved him. “Psh. As if.”

“He does,” Damian agreed.

“Traitor.” Jason folded himself into an armchair and took a teacup with a delicate touch seemingly at odds with his hulking frame, but Dick was used to it. The guy read Jane Austen novels for fun in his spare time and used the word _bamboozled_ at least once a month. In any case, getting Jason to sit down was a good sign, and the others soon followed suit.

Cassandra was on the edge of her seat, watching Tiger over the rim of her teacup. Damian did much the same beside her. Stephanie sprawled out next to Cassandra, almost spilling tea on herself on multiple occasions. Tim sat straight-backed in his seat, barely drinking at all, but that was normal for him in the company of others.

“So, Tiger.” Tim set his cup back on the coffee table.

“You want to date our brother,” Jason finished. Dick was getting downright disturbed by how in sync those two were with each other these days.

“You'll have to deal with us first.” Stephanie smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. It had _fangs_.

“And we're just the warmup act,” said Tim. “Just you wait until Bruce gets up here.”

“You have questions? Ask.” Tiger was still doing a good job of looking unconcerned, but Dick could feel the tension rolling off him.

“How'd you two even end up being a thing?” Stephanie asked. It was a fair question, even if Dick knew they would be disgusted by the details.

“Are you sure you want to know?” Dick said. Tiger's cheeks were turning red. “I mean, are you _sure_?”

“She asked, didn't she?” said Jason, pouring himself a second cup of tea.

“Fine.” Dick couldn't stop himself from smirking. They were going to regret this. “Life as a spy got lonely. So we had sex. And then pretended it didn't happen. Which made things awkward when we were sent undercover as a married couple in the middle of suburbia. I was still feeling lonely since, you know, I was isolated from everyone I'd ever known. Tiger offered to help me deal with it. We had more sex. And, at some point, we started having feelings for each other. But we sucked at communicating and didn't realise what was going on with each other until we got back home and our director smacked some verbal sense into us. Well, mostly me. We talked it out and agreed on a relationship. Then we had romantic sex. Happy?”

Tim, who had been about to bite into a biscuit, set it back down. Damian was bright red and glaring at the floor. Stephanie looked very sorry she asked. Jason had choked on his tea but was now drinking more to pretend it never happened. Funnily enough, it was Cassandra who broke the silence.

“Ew,” she said.

“I tried to warn you,” Dick replied. “But, alas, nobody ever listens to my wisdom.”

“Pfft. Wisdom.” Jason drained his cup and set it down. “Do you think Alfred would let me pour sherry into my cup if I said it was for medicinal purposes?”

“Jason, it's eleven o' clock,” Tim replied.

“Congrats, kid. You learned how to read a watch.”

“I am so sorry,” Dick said to Tiger under his breath.

“I expected worse,” Tiger replied. “I'm almost disappointed.”

“I'll make it up to you later,” Dick whispered. That got Tiger to crack a small smile.

“What're you two whispering about?” asked Damian.

“I'll tell you when you're older,” Dick replied.

“Disgusting,” Damian muttered.

“Let's not get sidetracked,” Tim said, very bravely picking up his biscuit again. “Obviously you managed to earn Dick's trust, or he wouldn't have brought you here.”

“But, then again, brother dearest always did try to see the good in people,” Jason added. “Even when there's no good to see.”

“How do we know you're genuine and not just using Dick to get at the rest of the family?” said Tim.

“You don't,” Tiger said bluntly. “Perhaps I never did leave Spyral. Perhaps I pretended to leave to make Dick bring his guard down. Perhaps you will wake up tomorrow to find I stole every single one of your secrets. All I can give is my word.”

“And that's good enough for me,” Dick said.

“You're too close to this, Dick,” Tim replied. “We know Spyral has access to a number of superhero identities, and that Tiger knows some of them himself. Bringing him here is a huge risk.”

“A calculated risk,” Dick said.

“He's a spy, Dick,” Jason cut in. “Maybe he's been manipulating you this whole time.”

“You haven't seen him try to act,” Dick replied. He got their concerns. Really, he did. He'd considered them all himself. But, at some point, he just had to take that leap of faith.

“And how do you know you have?” said Stephanie.

“I don't trust him,” Damian said. That was unsurprising.

Despite Dick's hopes, he knew expecting the family to just accept Tiger was unreasonable. And the fact they were speaking civilly at all was a miracle in itself. It was likely they would have to leave before things escalated. Dick refused to let this turn to violence.

“Me neither,” Cassandra said to Damian. “But I believe him.”

Stephanie looked at her for a moment. “Okay. Good enough for me.”

Jason and Tim shared a look. Tim shrugged.

“All right,” he said. “Benefit of the doubt it is.”

“I'm keeping my guns loaded, just in case,” said Jason. “But I won't shoot you yet.”

Damian just threw up his hands and left the room.

“Well,” Dick said, “that's a start. Thanks, guys.”

“Don't make us regret this,” Jason warned, grabbing a biscuit. “Now, _some_ of us have important things to do.” He started for the door.

“You've cleaned your guns twice today already,” Tim complained, following him out.

Cassandra slapped Stephanie on the shoulder. “Tag. You're it.” She was out of the room in the flash, Stephanie on her heels.

“That was fast,” Tiger commented.

“They're funny like that sometimes.” Dick refilled his tea. “Cass can read people better than I can. Get in her good books, and you're pretty safe. Just be prepared to go over all this again with Bruce, and maybe Barbara if she decides to show up. And Alfred was probably listening the whole time so you might not have to rehash it with him.”

Tiger poured the final drops of tea into his cup. They drank in blessed silence, pressed as close together as they could manage.

Bruce didn't show his face that day. Dick tried to put it out of his mind.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Tiger spend the night at the manor and join the family for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fluff took over. Also I had to throw in some sex somehow.

Dick and Tiger tried to be quiet that night. _Tried_ being the operative word. They weren't all that great at shutting up during sex, since it had never been much of a concern before.

Dick had his legs thrown over Tiger's broad shoulders, biting the pillow to stifle his moans. It didn't help that Tiger was whispering dirty things in his ear, not even trying to hide the fact he was outright baiting him into making even more noise.

“You're a bad person,” Dick gasped. Tiger thrust deep into him, and Dick barely caught the high-pitched sound building in his throat before it came out.

“You love the danger,” Tiger breathed. “The threat of somebody hearing us.”

Dick gripped the back of Tiger's neck, gritting his teeth against the way the man's voice always shot straight to his cock at times like this.

“Are you gonna fuck me deeper or... _ah_... are you just gonna tease me all night?”

Tiger nipped his earlobe. “Beg for it,” he whispered, and that made Dick shake and words were falling out of his mouth before he could think. He had no idea what he even said, only that they made Tiger grin like a damn shark and fuck him until he had to shove a pillow over his own face to muffle his screams.

Tiger ploughed him to orgasm, biting into Dick's pillow to quiet himself at the same time.

They held each other through the afterglow, kissing lazily until the buzz subsided to gentle hum, coaxing their bodies to stretch out and then melt into each other.

Tiger played with the ends of Dick's hair. “About your father...”

“You just fucked me to within an inch of my life and you want to bring him up _now_?”

Tiger soothed him with long, gentle strokes across his skin. “He will be the hardest to convince, yes?”

“Most likely.”

“And he refused to talk to us today.”

“I'll sic Alfred on him tomorrow.” Dick yawned and snuggled against Tiger's fuzzy chest. “No point worrying about it now.”

“What happens if we cannot gain his blessing?”

“We leave until he gets over himself.”

“I do not wish to come between you and your family.”

“It's fine, Tiger.” Dick patted his arm, half-missing in his sleepy haze. “We'll deal with it tomorrow, okay? Sleep.”

Tiger kissed his forehead. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, worrywart.”

Dick had lost count of the number of times they had fallen asleep like this, Tiger's larger form serving as a pillow to Dick's smaller one. The size difference wasn't huge, but it was enough. Dick was never cold with Tiger around, and it was comforting to have the man so readily available whenever he needed to be held.

In his arms, Dick found falling asleep a breeze. It didn't always stop the nightmares, but Tiger was there to chase them away.

* * *

Dick woke before dawn to an empty bed. He found clean clothes and the thickest socks Alfred had provided for him and slipped out to find Tiger. He headed straight for the room the family had set aside for prayers, opening the door only a crack to peek inside.

Damian and Tiger were kneeling, praying together. Dick quickly backed out of the room and waited in the hallway, watching as the sun slowly rose through a nearby window.

The pair emerged from the room shortly afterwards, Damian stifling a yawn behind his hand.

“'Morning,” Dick said to them, slotting his hands into Tiger's and kissing him on the cheek. Damian made a gagging noise, which they ignored.

“Did I wake you?” Tiger asked. It was a frequent question in their relationship, since Tiger was an early riser and Dick had been conditioned from a young age to be a night owl.

“I woke after you were gone,” Dick replied. “Don't worry about it.” He let go of one of Tiger's hands to pull Damian in for a one-armed hug.

“Ugh, Grayson. _Why_?”

“Because you're my brother and I love you.” Dick gave him a squeeze. “Didn't you literally flip into my arms that one time?”

“Shut up,” Damian muttered, burying his face in Dick's shirt. Tiger huffed out a soft laugh.

“How late were you all out last night?” Dick asked Damian.

“Late. There was a prison riot.”

“All right, then. Let's get you back to bed for a couple hours, hey?”

“I'm not a baby, Grayson. I can find my room by myself.”

“If you insist.” Dick planted the most obnoxious kiss on Damian's forehead that he could manage and sent him on his way. He squeezed Tiger's hand, not even bothering to hide his triumphant grin. “I knew he'd warm up to you.”

“We spoke civilly and he trusted me not to kill him while vulnerable,” Tiger agreed, “but true acceptance will take time.”

“He's taking to you quicker than he took to me,” Dick replied. “I'm a bit offended, actually.”

Tiger kissed his temple. “So, does that mean I win?”

“It's not a competition, T.”

“Maybe it should be.”

“You need to play tag with Cass sometime. That'll take you down a peg or ten.”

Tiger chuckled and led Dick back to their room. He wasn't the sort to laugh loudly, but he certainly laughed more in his own way than he did when he and Dick first met. Dick liked to think his influence may have had something to do with that.

They didn't sleep a whole lot. Tiger was apparently in the mood for other things. They caught an extra hour of sleep once they were spent, and Dick practically floated down to breakfast with him.

“You're both disgusting,” Jason said to them as a greeting, overfilling his coffee before Tim snatched it from him. “You're lucky you've grown on me, kid,” he growled, grabbing a second cup and trying again. “Seriously, Dick, I'll have to ask Roy if you were this bad with Kory.”

“Worse, actually,” Dick replied, piling eggs onto his plate. He was _ravenous_. And still a bit floaty. “You know, first love and all that.”

Damian chose that moment to enter the room. “Ugh, please, Grayson.”

“Not while we're eating, thanks,” Tim added.

Dick poured himself some coffee. “You're all so weak. It's adorable.”

“What are you going on about?” Barbara stood in the doorway, with Stephanie at her side. She caught sight of Tiger. “Ah. You.”

“Barbara, Tiger. Tiger, Barbara.” Dick tasted the coffee. Eugh. He added some sugar. “I take it Steph told you?”

“Of course I did,” said Steph, claiming the seat next to Tim and stealing his toast.

“She texted me last night.” Barbara took a seat at the table herself, grabbing a generous helping of oatmeal and fruit. Tiger passed her the bananas, having just sliced some into his own bowl. “Thanks. So, Steph warned me you were cute.”

Tiger didn't choke on his oatmeal, but it was a near thing. “I...” He swallowed. “That is not a word most people would use to describe me.”

“I don't know.” Barbara tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowed as she examined Tiger's face. “You're not bad to look at. And you're definitely Dick's type.”

“I have a type?”

“You have two different types,” Barbara replied without blinking. “You tend to prefer tall women who can kick your ass and don't take any shit from you. You like red hair, but it's not a make or break thing for you. With men, you're into the tall, dark and broody types. Except Wally. But he's a redhead and shares your sense of humour, so that makes up for it.”

“I'm not broody,” Tiger protested.

“You're a little bit broody,” Dick told him. “And let's just stop talking about this in front of the little ones. Damian's gonna puke.”

Damian took issue to that. “I'm not little—augh!”

Cassandra, it turns out, had been there the entire time, and had decided to tackle-hug Damian by dropping from whatever high surface she'd been sitting on.

“'Morning, Cass,” Tim said, looking distinctly unruffled. She liked to surprise them every so often, Tim most of all. At some point, he'd grown immune to it. Except when Cass got really creative. That was always fun to watch. Tim could scream at a deafening pitch Dick could never hope to match. The headache was worth the hilarity.

Alfred sighed from somewhere in the kitchen. “Miss Cassandra, please sit down and eat something.”

Cassandra was looking pretty proud of herself, even as she followed Alfred's request to the letter. By stealing what little of Tim's toast Stephanie hadn't gotten to yet. Tim sighed and went for the oatmeal instead. Which Jason then stole.

Tim sighed. “What are you even doing here, Jason?”

“Watching our dear brother's back,” Jason said before shoving a spoonful of stolen oatmeal into his mouth.

Tim peeled the last banana and took a huge bite out of it before anyone could steal that, too. “How nice. Give me my food.”

Jason batted the bowl back to him. “Only because you're a twig.”

“Thanks.” Tim shoved several spoonfuls in his mouth.

“Jason, behave,” said Barbara.

Jason his mouth full of toast, so he just gestured dramatically to the other two girls, who had already finished eating their ill-gotten gains.

“She's only telling you off because you'll actually listen to her,” Dick said, refilling his coffee cup. “Unlike _those two_.”

Stephanie and Cassandra shared an unreadable look, before smiling angelically. Dick decided to just eat his damn breakfast and pretend nothing was happening. That seemed to be Tiger's take on the whole situation as well.

Dick sensed Bruce's presence in the doorway before he said anything, mostly because Tim had a perfect line of sight and tensed the instant he saw him. Dick flashed Bruce a smile.

“'Morning, B,” he said brightly, as Tiger froze beside him.

“We've eaten most of the food,” said Jason. “That's what happens when you show up late to a meal in this house.”

Bruce ignored him. “You,” he said to Tiger. “A word. Now.”

Tiger visibly bristled at being addressed in such a way. Dick squeezed his hand.

“I won't be far,” he promised. Tiger nodded curtly and followed Bruce out of the room. Dread filled Dick's stomach, shoving his appetite aside.

“You know only one of them's leaving that room alive, right?” said Jason.

“Jay, so help me, I will shove this fork right up your—”

“Keep it G-rated, Goldie,” Jason interrupted. “There are kids in the room.”

Barbara grabbed one last piece of toast and wrapped it in a napkin. “Well, I've got to get back to Burnside. Tell Tiger it was nice knowing him.”

Dick groaned. “Barbara.”

“I'm kidding.” Barbara punched his shoulder. “It'll be fine. Bruce is stubborn, but you've got everyone on your side. He'll have to cave eventually.”

“Yeah, eventually,” Dick said to her retreating back.

“Maybe I'll come back later to help clean up the blood,” she said as she passed through the doorway. Dick nearly threw his fork at her, but Alfred was eyeing him from the kitchen, so he set it down on the table instead.

“So,” Jason said brightly, “in the meantime, how about we talk about you two shutting the fuck up when other people are trying to sleep?”

“Oh my God.” Dick wanted to hide his face, but that would only fuel Jason's appetite for conflict.

“For the record, my room's right across from yours where _it's always been_.”

“I just put in my earplugs and went back to sleep,” said Tim, who generally slept in the room right next to Dick's. “The walls aren't quite thick enough in that part of the house.”

“It was just them,” Stephanie said. “The rest of us didn't hear anything.”

“Thank goodness for small miracles,” Dick muttered. What was it with him and accidentally including people in his sex life? And he'd tried to be quiet this time and everything.

Barbara stuck her head back in the room. “Was he screaming this time? Because that happens sometimes.”

“Barbara!” Dick snapped. “That was years ago. I've grown. I've _changed_.”

“Remind me to give Tiger some tips on changing that.” Barbara left again, just at Dick grappled with a second bout of temptation when it came to throwing things at people.

Dignity gone, Dick rested his head on the table. “I hate my life.”

“I hate my life, too,” said Damian.

“If I apologise to everyone, will this conversation be over?”

“Maybe,” Jason replied. “If you're sincere.”

“Fine. I'm sorry I made you guys hear that. Really.”

“Do you think he's sincere?” Tim stage-whispered to Jason.

“I don't know,” Jason stage-whispered back.

“Guys...”

“Fine, fine,” said Jason. “Apology accepted.”

“Now you better go find where Bruce took your boyfriend,” said Tim, “just in case you need to stop a homicide.”

Dick pushed his seat back. “Please don't jinx things. This guy left his job for me and we've been in hiding ever since. I promised him you guys would come around. I don't want to be made a liar today.”

“We've got your back,” Stephanie promised. “And we can always use Cass if we have to. Bruce can't say no to her.”

Cassandra beamed. Dick went to find where Bruce and Tiger were talking, feeling slightly better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce gets his one-on-one time with Tiger. Dick attempts to listen in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to write this one longer, but the next part works better as its own chapter. So here we are.

Dick knew Bruce wouldn't take Tiger into the batcave. They had to be in the manor somewhere, likely a room without a whole lot in it to diminish the possibility of improvised weapons. Maybe a pair of armchairs, things too heavy to be lifted by a non-metahuman.

He ran into Alfred in a disused wing of the house. Alfred pressed a finger to his lips and pointed at the nearest door.

“Be discreet, sir,” he whispered as he headed the way Dick had come.

Dick leaned against the wall right by the doorframe. The sound wasn't great, but Bruce would notice shadows beneath the door if he stood directly in front of it.

“I don't know how you've gotten everyone else in this family eating out of the palm of your hand,” came Bruce's voice, “but you won't find me so easy to manipulate.”

“I'm not as charming as you think I am,” Tiger replied. Dick had to hold back a laugh. Usually it took people a little longer to start back-sassing the Batman.

There was a long silence. Dick could almost feel the glaring contest.

“Your daughter said she believed me,” Tiger explained after a while, having evidently lost. “The others accepted her judgement. That is why they tolerate me.”

“ _Cassandra_ trusted you?”

“No.”

“...good.” A few footsteps, then, close to the door: “Dick, I know you're there.”

“Just making sure you're not killing each other,” Dick said into the door.

“Leave.”

“Promise you won't eat my partner alive, and I'll consider it.”

Bruce sighed. “I promise. Now go away.”

“Fine, fine.” Dick started back down the hallway.

Bruce's voice floated after him, barely audible, and directed back to Tiger. “Break his heart and I will break every bone in your body. Got me?”

Dick was too far away to hear Tiger's response by that point. He'd have to ask him later.

He found Jason, Tim and Damian hanging out in a sitting room, which was disturbing. They certainly hadn't gotten along this well before he'd faked his death. Jason and Tim were playing chess while Damian pretended he was reading a book rather than watching them.

“Bruce kicked you out, huh?” said Jason, moving a pawn.

“He promised not to eat Tiger at least,” Dick replied, flopping down on the couch almost on top of Damian, who kicked him in response.

“Personal space, Grayson.”

Dick booped Damian's nose. “Never heard of it.”

“Clearly.” Damian batted Dick's hand away. “I like your boyfriend better than you.”

Jason oohed. Dick threw a cushion at him, which Jason deflected into Tim's face. It bounced off Tim's face and onto the chessboard, knocking several pieces to the floor.

“Yeah,” Dick said to Damian as if none of that had happened, “I like him better than me, too.”

“That's just sad,” Tim replied, flicking Jason's king off the chessboard out of pure spite.

“Yeah, you should probably work on that whole self-esteem thing,” Jason added.

Dick snorted. “You two are the last people who should be lecturing me on self-esteem. Hell, this whole family doesn't have a leg to stand on in that department. Except Cass. She knows she's awesome.”

“You don't have to take your own advice to give it,” Tim said, resetting the chessboard.

“Pathetic,” Jason muttered.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Dick said, “I'm glad you and Tiger are getting along, Dami.”

Damian rolled his eyes at the nickname. “He told me about the time you screwed up a mission and he had to save you from getting shot in the face.”

“Hey, I saved him from a superpowered robot later. I think we're even.”

“So romantic,” said Jason.

“In our world, it pretty much is,” Tim replied.

Damian pointedly pulled his music player out of his pocket and plugged himself into it. Jason snorted and started a new game.

“Anyway...” Jason moved a pawn. “You and Tiger got out of Spyral ages ago. Where the hell have you been?”

“We were in hiding,” Dick replied. “From pretty much everyone.”

“Why didn't you call us?” said Tim. “We could've helped.”

“We didn't want to risk any calls getting traced,” Dick replied. “Tiger and I agreed we'd be better off making our own way until we were close enough to make a break for it.”

Jason muttered something. Dick only caught the end: “...so married.”

“What was that, Jay?”

“Nothing.”

Tim snickered.

“You're a bad influence,” Dick said to Jason.

“Not as bad as I'd like to be. Damn kid wouldn't let me take him out drinking.”

“I'm sixteen, Jason.”

“So?”

“It's—” Tim stopped himself, narrowing his eyes at Jason, who seemed to read his mind.

“What, illegal? You know what else is illegal, Timbo? _Vigilantism_.”

Damian turned his music up louder to drown out Dick's laughter. Laughing felt good. It had been a while since he'd been happy enough. There hadn't been time for that when he was on the run, especially when their pursuers were right on their heels. Though he was glad he hadn't been alone, worrying about Tiger's safety had brought on a whole new level of exhaustion.

Dick didn't get a chance to fall too deeply into that rabbit-hole before Jason smacked him with a pillow.

“Wake up.” Jason moved another chess piece. “I need a witness for when I kick this kid's ass.”

“We'll see about that,” Tim retorted, taking his turn.

Dick was saved from mediating the inevitable fight at the end of the game when Tiger returned.

“You're alive,” Dick said.

“Barely,” Tiger replied.

“Go be married somewhere else,” Tim said.

“We're concentrating,” Jason added.

“We're not even...” Dick sighed. “Whatever. Don't kill each other.” He and Tiger headed to Dick's room. Well, it was _their_ room now.

Tiger sat on the bed with a barely-there wince. “Your father doesn't want me here.”

Dick sat beside him, grabbing his hand. “Of course he doesn't. We can win him over. It'll just take time. How's your leg?”

“Fine.”

“You made a face.”

“I make many faces.”

“Tiger...”

“It aches,” Tiger admitted. “I can handle it.”

“Alfred's a trained medic,” Dick said, trying so very hard not to think about what had happened, all the blood, not knowing if Tiger was even going to live. “If I messed up, he can probably fix it.”

“You did not mess up,” Tiger assured him. “The pain is normal.”

Dick snorted. “Normal.”

Tiger squeezed his hand. “We're safe for now. Stop blaming yourself.”

“Sorry.” Dick managed a small, very bitter, smile. “It's a talent of mine.”

“You did nothing wrong. You know that.”

“Sorry. I'm trying.”

“Idiot,” Tiger said fondly and kissed his forehead.

* * *

Bruce dragged Dick into the batcave after lunch. They ended up in a small bedroom off the main chamber.

“I can be reasonable, Dick,” Bruce said, closing the door behind them. “If this is all because I left you hanging in Spyral...”

Dick snorted. “Not everything is about you, Bruce.”

“I know you're mad at me,” Bruce continued.

“Mad?” Dick laughed, because otherwise he'd probably hit something. “Of course I'm mad! You didn't have a single backup plan to get me out if something happened to you. You left me out in the _cold_ , Bruce, because you were too arrogant to even think you—”

“If this is your way of convincing me—”

Dick spoke over the top of him. “Oh, please. I'm perfectly capable of expressing myself without using my boyfriend to get back at you.”

“He's dangerous, Dick.”

“Dangerous?” Dick replied. “That's rich, coming from you. What about Selina? Talia? Clark?”

Bruce actually choked. “ _Clark_?”

“Yes, Clark,” said Dick, thoroughly enjoying the panicked look on the other man's face. “I figured that one out years ago, B. You're not as subtle as you think. He'd say yes if you asked him out, you know. Just saying.”

“We're getting off topic.” Bruce's voice came out a little strangled.

“This topic's more fun.”

“For you, maybe.”

Dick flashed Bruce his best shit-eating grin. “Just fuck him already and maybe I won't bring it up again.”

Bruce sighed. “That's enough.”

“Fine, fine. I'll tease you about your enormous Supercrush another time.”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dick...”

“Oh my God. You're actually blushing.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, though. I managed to get Spyral's top agent to fall in love with me. So if you need pointers...”

“Or maybe he's playing you,” Bruce replied, apparently deciding to ignore Dick's final sentence.

“He's gone to a lot of effort to play me, then,” Dick said. “He's almost as emotionally constipated as you are.”

“At least try to be serious, Dick.”

“Truth hurts, B.” Dick threw himself onto the bed. He hated the beds in the batcave. The mattresses were cheap because they tended to get bled on. Most of the family only slept down here when they couldn't physically make it to the manor. In that condition, they tended not to care about the shitty mattresses.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed. “All right. He's clearly earned your loyalty somehow.”

“He nearly died protecting me.” It was still hard to think about, let alone talk about.

“Define _nearly_.”

Dick sighed, sitting up. “All right. Story time. Tiger and I went into hiding after we broke away from Spyral because we were being hunted from all sides and we couldn't risk contacting you when we were too far away to run if the call was traced. We knew secrets that made us both dangerous and valuable, depending on who you ask.”

“That isn't news, Dick.”

“Be patient.” Dick came close to snapping at him. “We did okay for the most part. We didn't stay anywhere long enough to be noticed. Until a bit over a month ago. Tiger went out for some basic supplies while I packed up what we had. He didn't come back. I saw a news report about an armed robbery at the store he'd gone to.”

“He was there when it happened,” Bruce assumed.

“The attackers used it as a cover to grab him,” Dick replied. “The shopowner had assumed he was one of them. Naturally. The police weren't being helpful, so he was more than happy to show me the CCTV footage.”

“And you tracked them down.”

“Of course I did. You trained me.”

Bruce let out a single, soft laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Dick.”

“Points for trying, though, right?”

“No.”

Dick sighed dramatically and got on with the story.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick really hated himself sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a flashback of what Dick started to tell Bruce last chapter. A bit gory.

**A Month Ago**

Dick tracked Tiger's kidnappers to an underground facility accessible via a perpetually closed shopfront, his mood swinging between guilt and stubbornness. Tiger had told him, mere weeks ago, not to do this.

“ _If something happens to me, you leave_ ,” Tiger had told him. “ _Do not look back. Do not try to rescue me. Save yourself. Do not let them find both of us. Promise me._ ”

Dick had promised after Tiger had needled him for the whole day on the subject. But, ultimately, that was a promise he couldn't keep. Tiger was all he had right now.

Dick found an alternate entrance via the manhole on the street, his boots splashing in what he really hoped was water. The piping above his head was rusted and broken in places and dripped what he also really hoped was water into his hair. There were two guards by a metal door. Dick took them out in silence, tying them up and stuffing them into one of the larger pipes, gagging them for good measure. Missing guards weren't as immediate a cause for alarm as visibly unconscious guards, but Dick had limited time to find Tiger in either case.

Dick opened the door using a key stolen from one of the guards and slipped inside. He was in luck. There was plenty of room in the rafters to travel, which would place him above the view of any security cameras if he was careful.

He flitted between the rafters, ears tuned for anything that would give him a clue where Tiger was. He'd been searching for ten minutes before he heard anything.

A smack of skin on skin. A grunt.

A voice. “Where is your partner?”

A deep laugh. Tiger's voice.

Another smack. “Tell me.”

“No.” Tiger's voice was strained, but firm. Dick headed towards it.

“We can do this one of two ways. The easy way...” Smack. “Or the—”

“Oh, shut up,” Tiger growled.

Dick found the right door and opened it a crack. The torturer had his back to him. Tiger, chained to the wall and bleeding profusely from the nose, saw him but made no reaction.

Dick grabbed the torturer by the neck, hand over his nose and mouth, and squeezed until he went limp, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. Dick grabbed a key from his pocket and used it to release the cuffs around Tiger's wrists.

“I told you not to rescue me,” Tiger grumbled, rubbing the raw skin.

“And I ignored you.” Dick helped him to his feet. “How are you feeling?”

“I can fight.”

At that point, an alarm sounded throughout the facility.

“Good,” Dick replied, “because it sounds like they found the guards I took out.” He pulled Tiger's arm over his shoulders and support him out the door.

They got about halfway down the corridor before the sound of heavy footfalls alerted them to take a fighting stance. Tiger was visibly shaking from pain, likely from injuries Dick hadn't seen yet, but he gritted his teeth and raised his fists.

People swarmed the hallway, half of them aiming guns at the pair. There was no way Tiger would have the stamina to avoid getting shot by that many people.

“I'll deal with the guns,” Dick said. “You handle anyone who gets too close.”

Dick launched himself at the nearest shooter, breaking their wrists before moving onto the next. He didn't have time to take them out entirely. Removing their ability to shoot was the priority. Then he could move on to helping Tiger with the rest.

Tiger was actually holding his own, despite whatever had been done to him. But the exhaustion was showing. His punches were sloppier than usual and he took hits that he would've normally avoided. Dick kept the fight away from him as much as possible, but there were just too many people, and more coming with each passing second.

“We can't win this,” Dick said, tossing aside some asshole who'd tried to take out Tiger's knee with a baton.

“Noted.” Tiger blocked a punch with his forearm before delivering a strike of his own.

“We have to go.”

“ _Ngh_.” Tiger grabbed the nearest pistol off the floor, using it to knock someone out. “I can't.”

“Damn it, Tiger.” Dick leapt at an attacker, using him as a springboard into another one. He took down half a dozen of them before his feet hit the ground again. “We're getting out of here together, you hear me?” He grabbed Tiger's hand and dragged him through the hole he'd just made, flinging a handful of small explosives over his shoulder to distract the remaining fighters. He and Tiger slipped away in the confusion of the explosions, and managed to drag themselves into a ventilation shaft.

Tiger's face had drained of all colour and he pressed a hand to his side, hissing breaths through his teeth. Dick peeled his hand away and gently probed his fingers into the offending area, pulling back the instant Tiger flinched.

“Your ribs might be broken,” Dick whispered. “Fractured at least.”

“I noticed,” Tiger breathed.

“Any other injuries?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Dick glared at him. “That's not helpful.”

“We do not have time for this.”

“Fine.” Dick sighed. “We need a plan. You're not moving so well.”

Tiger wheezed out a laugh. “Really? I hadn't noticed.”

“Now's not a good time to grow a sense of humour, T.”

“You say that often.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dick peered through the grate he had replaced as carefully as he could in the short time he'd had. “The coast is clear for the moment, but that could change. Could you make a break for it if you took a shot of adrenaline?”

“Maybe.”

“All right.” Dick dug through his utility pouches until he found the right syringe. “This might sting a little.” He found a vein in Tiger's arm and jabbed the needle in, slowly pressing down the plunger until it was empty.

They risked the corridor outside the grate, moving as quickly and quietly as possible. Tiger was clumsy from pain, so stealth had to be prioritised over speed. Dick took out the stragglers they encountered, until they reached a wall that absolutely hadn't been there before.

“Shit,” Dick muttered, running his fingers over the metal. He could hear voices on the other side, hashing out plans, getting into position. There were too many. It sounded as if everybody still left conscious had converged to form a chokepoint here.

“This the only way out?” Tiger whispered, the pair of them backing away so their voices wouldn't carry past the blockade.

Dick nodded, pointing up to the rafters. “I used those before. We can use them get over the gate, but they'll see us.”

Tiger's fingers flexed on the handle of his ill-gotten pistol. “We need a diversion.”

“I'm out of bombs.” Dick's heart sank. They were at a dead end. There was no way they could both get out of here in one piece.

“How far are we from the exit?” asked Tiger.

“Not too far,” Dick replied. “Lots of long, straight corridors. Good for running; bad for hiding.”

Tiger suddenly grabbed a handful of Dick's shirt and kissed him. Dick barely had time to process what was happening before Tiger pulled away again.

“You can make a run for the exit,” Tiger said, grabbing some of the climbing cable from one of Dick's pouches. “I cannot.”

Dick could see where this was going. “Oh, no you don't. I came in here to save your ass. I'm not leaving without you.”

“You have no choice.” Tiger secured a line to the rafters. “Help me up.”

Dick hopped up ahead of him and helped him climb on. “This is the worst idea you've ever had.”

“I will only slow you down. If you stay with me, they will kill us both.”

This couldn't be happening. “I won't—”

“You _will_ ,” Tiger growled. “You will get out of here and flee the city. Do not wait for me.”

“I can't—”

Tiger grabbed Dick's wrist, his grip bruisingly tight. “Must I beg?”

“It won't change anything,” Dick shot back. “I'm not leaving you.”

“ _Dick_.” Tiger's voice cracked. “I can barely fight, let alone run. Your best chance for survival is to leave me behind. I will try to escape once you've had enough time. I do not intend to accept my fate. I will do my best to fight my way out of here.”

“But—”

“You need my help,” Tiger insisted. “I am offering because I love you.”

“And I'm rejecting your offer because I love you right back,” Dick snapped. His heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. “This isn't right.”

Tiger pressed his lips to Dick's forehead. “I know. Do you have a better idea?”

Dick sighed. “No. But I won't be able to live with myself if I let you die for me.”

Tiger lifted his gun and edged towards the blockade. “You will survive. You always do.”

“Wait.” Dick grabbed his arm.

“Dick...”

“I...” Dick wanted to scream at this cruel twist of fate that was forcing him to make this decision. “The backup safehouse. I'll wait there for twenty-four hours. If you're not back by then, I promise I'll leave.”

Tiger kissed his knuckles, his eyes burning into Dick's. “Okay. I love you. Be safe.”

“You, too.” Dick hated himself as he watched Tiger edge across the barrier and drop to the floor, already shooting. Dick waited a few moments for him to gather everyone's attention before darting across the rafters, resisting the urge to look down, until he'd made it past a second barrier.

He forced himself to keep up a rapid pace, even as his feet felt heavier than lead. All he wanted to do was go back there, but he couldn't. They would both die, and Tiger's damn noble sacrifice would've been for nothing.

Dick had to take out a few guards here and there, but he managed to get topside again without too much trouble. He dropped by their main safehouse to grab what he'd packed already before heading to the backup, which was a condemned house near a wrecking yard. He'd paid the wrecking yard's owner a tidy sum to set a car aside, one that would still run well enough to get him (and Tiger, because he had to hope the man would pull through) out of the city.

Up until that point, he hadn't let himself think. Or feel. But now, with nothing but a full day of waiting stretched out before him, that was all he had left to do.

Dick curled up on the floor with a thin blanket around his shoulders, resting his head against the old, beaten-up couch. He could've sat on it, but he didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be comfortable. Even the blanket felt like too much of an indulgence after what he'd just done.

He busied himself with sorting through his medical kit. If, by some highly unlikely miracle, Tiger did manage to escape, he would need treatment. This kit was all Dick had for that. The two of them had been building the kit ever since they went on the run, grabbing a few bandages here, numbing gel there, until they had a fairly respectable collection. It had nothing on the batcave's med bay, of course, but as far as field med kits went, they'd done pretty well. Fortunately, up until this point, neither of them had really needed to use it.

Dick knew the contents back-to-front already, so it didn't take him nearly long enough to sort. He tried grouping the supplies in different ways—alphabetical, in order of use, in order of urgency, by type—but still found himself out of ideas much too quickly for his taste. The same went for the rest of the supplies he'd brought along. He'd done too much organising while waiting for Tiger to get back from the store before all hell broke loose, and that left him with precious little to keep his mind off his current situation.

He couldn't put it off any longer.

He'd left Tiger to die.

It didn't matter that Tiger told him to do it. Dick should've found a better way. Bruce would have. But no. Dick had hid like a coward while Tiger took on a room full of armed enemies he had no hope of defeating.

What did it matter now that Dick was safe and in one piece? He'd sold his soul for this. Bruce would be appalled at him. Tiger's blood was on his hands. He wasn't coming back. Dick's vigil was nothing but a formality.

Dick didn't cry often. He'd learned the art of repression from the master himself. He was employing all those techniques now. It was unhealthy, but he absolutely refused to fall apart. He didn't deserve that particular luxury. He'd brought this on himself.

The whirlpool of self-loathing was harder to avoid than the tears. He didn't have the energy to get away from both of them at the same time.

Just when that pit was threatening to swallow his insides, there was movement. A crash. Groaning.

Dick jerked to his feet. The door creaked open and a dark shadow—Dick had forgotten to turn on the lights—shouldered his way inside. Dick flicked on the battery-powered lamp he'd stuck to the wall, throwing Tiger's battered features into sharp relief. There was blood all over him, most concentrated on his right leg.

“Tiger,” Dick gasped, and rushed over to support the man's weight. This close, he could see the puncture in Tiger's right pant leg, the source of all that blood. “Hang on. I'm gonna fix you up, okay?”

Tiger let Dick take his weight. “Thank you.” His voice was soft, weak.

Dick got him on the floor; not very hygienic, but it allowed him easier access to all Tiger's injuries than the couch did. Dick bundled the blanket under Tiger's cut and bruised head and cut off his pant leg; there was no way he was getting Tiger out of his pants properly in this state.

Dick wiped the blood on his leg away and disinfected the skin, only for more blood to take its place. Tiger's skin was somehow even more colourless than a few hours ago. The wound on his thigh was deep, angry, weeping blood. Dick swiped numbing gel across the area and got to stitching. It was a neat stab wound; he didn't have to worry about bits of weapon being stuck in there.

“I don't have time to wait for the gel to work,” Dick said quickly, readying his needle and thread. “We need to get this closed now. Stay with me, okay?”

Tiger nodded sleepily, his eyes already half-lidded. Dick pinched his arm to keep him alert. If Tiger went to sleep now, there was a chance he'd never wake up.

Dick got to stitching, trying to block out Tiger's fingers scrambling for purchase on the dusty carpet, pained moans dying before they even reached his lips.

“I'm sorry,” Dick murmured as he kept stitching Tiger's skin back together. “I'm so sorry.” He didn't even know why he was apologising. For causing Tiger pain in the here and now? Or for leaving him behind to sustain these injuries in the first place?

“It's fine,” Tiger ground out. At least he was still responsive. Awake and in pain was better than unconsciousness, even as Dick continued to profoundly hate himself the whole time he sewed. About halfway through his efforts, the numbing gel must have begun to work, because Tiger visibly relaxed. Dick couldn't help but notice Tiger's shirt had a circle of blood that was still spreading.

Dick dressed Tiger's just-stitched stab wound and cut the shirt away. Honestly, he expected worse than he found. Evidently, a bullet had grazed Tiger's side. He'd probably tried to jump out of the way and got just far enough that the bullet didn't hit anything vital. It didn't really need stitches, so Dick just cleaned and dressed it and set to disinfecting his other smaller injuries.

Tiger was limp by now, and that was worrying. Dick pinched him again, but Tiger's eyes slid closed anyway.

“No,” Dick snapped. “Don't do this to me. Not now.” He tapped the side of Tiger's face until he opened his eyes to glare weakly at him. “Let's get some fluids into you, okay?” He started with a bottle of water he'd packed for their planned exit from the city, grateful he had a packet of straws on hand. When it became evident Tiger was able to stomach that much, they graduated to apple juice. The reintroduction of sugar to his bloodstream made Tiger's eyes a little clearer, more alert.

“I killed them all,” Tiger said quietly. “Sorry.”

Dick couldn't bring himself to care right now. If that wasn't yet another sign he was on his way to hell...

“It's okay,” Dick whispered, brushing the man's sweaty fringe aside. He'd grown his hair a little longer than usual during the time they'd been on the run. “Let's get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Tiger managed to push himself into a sitting position, his arms shuddering from the exertion. Dick took the lead from there, helping him to his feet. Tiger sagged against Dick, little better than a dead weight. Dick supported him into the bedroom and onto the mattress on the floor.

Tiger fell asleep shortly afterwards. Dick curled up beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest, keeping his hand over the man's heart. He tried to take comfort in the rhythm of his heartbeat. It wasn't easy, as braced as he was for his heart to stop, for his chest to fall still.

“I love you,” Dick whispered over the hitching progress of Tiger's breathing. “Please don't leave me again.”

Dick stayed curled around him all night, eyes on Tiger's chest, hand on his heart, ears pricked for any sound out of the ordinary. If anybody had somehow survived to come after them, Dick would take them out with a vengeance. He had failed to protect Tiger earlier. He wasn't about to let that happen again.

He didn't cry, no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn't afford to be weak ever again, not when Tiger was depending on him.

He didn't cry. He didn't sleep. He had to be strong for this man, who had been strong enough to give up everything for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce makes a decision, and Tiger learns nobody can say no to Cass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am alive yet again. A bit of blood and violence in this chapter. And Dick's being dramatic.

_**Now** _

“You left him behind in hostile territory?” said Bruce.

“I'm not proud of it,” Dick replied. Of course Bruce would have something to say about that. As if Dick didn't feel bad enough already.

Bruce shook his head, chuckling a little to himself. “And to think I've been letting you guilt me over the same thing several times a day.”

“The difference being that I didn't _tell_ you not to have a backup plan in case you're suddenly unable to communicate with me behind enemy lines,” Dick said, with more than just a hint of irritation. “So maybe I'm an asshole, but at least I didn't leave Tiger hanging with no idea if I was ever going to get him out. Unlike _someone_ I know.”

To anyone else, Dick wouldn't be defending himself at all. He beat himself up over leaving Tiger behind every day. But he wasn't going to take that shit from Bruce. Not after everything the man had put him through.

“That's not what I...” Bruce sighed. “You think I'm attacking you.”

“Is that not what you're doing?” So Dick was being more combative than he normally would. He damn well deserved it after the shit he'd gone through for this man. Dick tried to live up to Bruce's expectations of him, to do everything he could to help him in their mission, but even he had his limits. Sometimes he got tired of setting himself on fire just to keep other people warm.

“No. It was just... I thought it was amusing.”

Dick _so_ wanted to punch him. “Jeez, Bruce. At least when you didn't have a sense of humour we didn't have to worry about your comedic timing. Which is terrible, by the way.”

“So I've heard,” Bruce said.

“Uh-huh.” Dick was ready for this conversation to be over. He'd said his piece. He just wanted to know if he and Tiger would have to leave or not.

Naturally, silence descended between the two of them. Dick wouldn't have minded if a worldwide emergency showed itself, just so he could get out of here. Nothing fatal, though. That wouldn't be a nice thing to wish upon random strangers.

Bruce had apparently decided that talking was a bad idea, but Dick wasn't in the mood to help him out. This whole day was giving him an ulcer. He'd much rather be upstairs with Tiger and the family. Maybe he could convince Tiger to let Alfred have a look at his leg. Dick was no surgeon; the mere thought that he might've done something wrong ate at him, no matter how much Tiger tried to convince him he was fine.

At last, Bruce got up and made for the door. “It was good of Tiger to do that,” he said, his hand resting on the doorknob. “He can stay. For now.” And then he was out of the room and it was over.

Dick let his head drop into his hands. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He stayed like that for a few minutes, until his new cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

Dick answered it, barely registering Jason's caller ID; he'd probably have to update it within the month when Jason ditched his phone and replaced it with a new one like he always did. “Yeah?”

“Get upstairs,” Jason said.

“...why?”

“I'm not gonna ruin the surprise. Just get up here.”

“Jason, any surprise you're involved in is already ruined.”

“Ouch. Somebody's grumpy. Almost as if you were just talking to—hey, old man. Did you hurt Dick's feelings? Because he's acting like a real d—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dick said. “I'm coming.” He hung up and headed upstairs. He could hear shouting. And cheering, apparently. He followed the ruckus all the way to one of the numerous sitting rooms in the manor. All the furniture had been pushed to the walls years ago one time Dick and a very young Jason were sparring upstairs—both having been banned from the batcave for spraying one of Batman's uniforms pink—and had remained there ever since.

Cass and Tiger were fighting in the centre of the room. Well, sparring. The rest of the family had crowded around to watch. Jason was heckling, though his exact words were swallowed up by the noise everyone else was making. Barbara had shown up again and was making as much noise as anyone else. Steph was trying to out-cheer her while Tim seemed to have given up.

Tiger was holding his own fairly well, considering his injury and Cass's skill. He wasn't getting hit nearly as much as Dick would've expected. He hadn't landed any hits on Cass, either, but that wasn't a surprise. Movement was Cassandra's first language; she was learning about him much faster than he could about her.

Dick slotted himself between Jason and Damian. Tiger really shouldn't have been fighting at all, not while he was still having leg trouble.

“We'll make sure his funeral's nice,” Jason said to Dick. “I'm an expert.”

“Jason, dying doesn't make you a funeral expert.”

“Hey, no death, no opinion. Isn't that right, Damian?”

“Right,” Damian said. “Pretending doesn't count, _Grayson_.”

Dick winced as Tiger took a particularly hard hit. “Okay, guys, you're right. I'm a bad person and I'm sorry.”

“Jesus, at least put up more of a fight,” Jason said. “Teasing you's no fun when you just let us win.”

“Or maybe I really am just a bad person and wanted to get it off my chest.” Dick wasn't quite in the right mood for teasing. It was hard to put up enough for a fight for his siblings to have fun with it when his self-esteem was lying dead on the floor.

“Psh. Boring.” Jason turned his attention back to the fight.

It didn't last much longer. Dick could see Tiger's bad leg shaking, but he didn't give in until Cass had him on the floor. She whispered something in his ear before helping him up.

“You survived,” Dick said, helping Tiger over to the nearest couch. Tiger refused to let him support any of his weight for him. Damian brought him a bottle of water.

“I did,” Tiger replied, taking a sip. “She's good.”

“The best we've got,” Dick said, sitting next to him. The others in the room had begun to disperse.

“Did you speak to your father?”

“I did. We can stay, at least for now.”

Tiger shifted, not quite holding back a wince. “How did you convince him?”

“I told him what happened last month,” Dick replied. He reached out, seized Tiger's hand. He needed the contact right now.

“What did he say about it?”

“Not much. He thought it was funny I've been mad at him for getting me stuck in a dangerous situation when I'd just left you behind in one myself.” Dick couldn't stop a bitter laugh. “Of course, it sounded more like an accusation to me because he doesn't joke much. I actually defended myself. Weird, right? I still hate myself but not enough to let him win an argument, apparently. And then it turns out he'd grown a sense of humour; he wasn't even accusing me of anything.”

“The only person accusing you of anything is you,” Tiger said gently.

“I know. I just—damn it, I shouldn't have let you do that for me.”

Tiger set his water bottle aside and pressed a finger to Dick's lips. “Shh. You know we could have both died if you had stayed with me.”

Dick deflated. “I know that, too.” He pulled Tiger's hand back from his face, kissing his knuckles. “How's your leg now?”

“Sore,” Tiger admitted.

“You really shouldn't have fought.”

“Cassandra asked,” Tiger said. “I couldn't say no.”

Of course he couldn't. “No one can say no to Cass,” Dick said, feeling a little better. Just a little.

“She knows about my leg now.”

“Is that what she told you?”

“Yes, and that I should have Alfred look at it.”

Dick smirked. “Great minds think alike.”

“But fools rarely differ.”

“If you weren't injured, I'd smack you for that.”

“I can still take it.”

“I'm not gonna fight a wounded man. I'll leave that to Cass.”

Tiger huffed out a laugh. “I will tell her you said that.”

Dick tried to keep his brave face on for the rest of the day to avoid worrying Tiger, but it was hard when Tiger couldn't walk without pain, having pushed himself too far in that fight.

Tiger rested in bed at Dick's insistence, with Dick curled up beside him. Tiger played with his hair.

“I know you are pretending,” Tiger said.

“Shh. You're meant to be resting.”

“I am resting.” Tiger tugged on a small handful of hair, just to be a shit. “What can I do?”

“For what?”

“To help you.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Help me with what?”

“You know what I mean. Your guilt.”

“Just leave it, T. It's not going anywhere.” This conversation was making Dick tired.

“You know you did the right thing.”

“Do I?”

Tiger groaned quietly. “Apparently not. Listen. I know these kinds of problems can ruin relationships. I don't want it to happen to us. You said you hate yourself. I want to help you stop.”

“Tiger, guilt is practically my life.” Dick buried his face in the pillow. “I need time, but even then I don't think it'll go away completely. There are some things I just can't forgive.”

“Well, I forgive you, even though I do not believe there is anything to forgive.” Tiger patted down the hair he'd messed with.

“This shouldn't even be about me,” Dick muttered. “You're the one who got hurt. And you really should see Alfred.”

“If it will make you feel better, then I will. Happy?”

Dick shrugged. Happiness was a bit out of his reach at the moment. Maybe later.

* * *

_**A Month Ago** _

Tiger survived the night. Dick felt like death warmed over. He swallowed down his guilt and stress and grabbed the car from the wrecking yard while Tiger rested on the couch. Dick packed the backseat and trunk with supplies and gulped down a few breaths before heading back into the house to help Tiger out to the car.

Dick couldn't stop shaking as he climbed into the driver's seat. He gripped the steering wheel tight enough to whiten his knuckles, which kept his hands steady enough to drive. He was running on no sleep and leftover apple juice. His stomach couldn't handle food today.

Dick barely breathed until they'd crossed the city limits. Tiger's fingers briefly brushed against Dick's shoulder before falling back to his side.

“Go back to sleep,” Dick told him. “You need your rest. But, I swear, if you stop breathing...”

“I'll try not to die,” Tiger said quietly, his voice still too weak for Dick's taste. He closed his eyes and his breathing soon levelled out into sleep.

Dick was in no shape to drive, but with Tiger out for the count, he just had to suck it up and get on with it. They had to put as much space between them and the city as they could.

They drove all day, only stopping for gas and food. Tiger slept through most of the driving. Dick tried not to worry. He needed the rest to heal. And it meant Dick didn't have to try quite to hard to pretend he wasn't falling to pieces.

They were out in the middle of nowhere by now, almost completely alone on the road. They passed the occasional gas station and motor inn. Dick tried not to look at the inns too much. He was tired enough; thinking about inns and their beds wasn't helping.

His stomach growled. He ignored it. Tiger stirred beside him.

“Eat something,” he said irritably.

“I'm busy,” Dick replied, focusing hard on the road.

Tiger sighed. He moved, but Dick was too busy concentrating to see what he was doing. Until Tiger nudged his arm with an unwrapped muesli bar.

“Do I have to feed you by hand?”

“Fine.” Dick snatched the bar. “Message received.” He really didn't want to eat, but Tiger wouldn't leave him alone until he did.

They drove through the night. Dick turned on the radio to keep himself company while Tiger slept some more. He found some weird evangelical Christian channel. Something about sending in money to plant seeds for some kind of growth. Well, the only growth that would come from that would be in the preacher's bank account. It was ridiculous, but that in itself kept Dick awake.

The road was pitch black in the feeble light cast by the headlights. If it weren't for the endless slips of white falling along the way, it'd be all too easy to pretend there was no ground at all. Dick tried not to dwell on that too much. He had enough to worry about without his mind going on pointless tangents.

Tiger woke up at some point and pointed at the radio. “Dick. _Why_?”

Dick shrugged. “It amused me.”

Tiger snorted and fiddled with the settings until he found a radio playing jazz, which, despite Dick's atrocious mood, made him laugh a little.

“Oh,” he said, noticing Tiger was looking at him. “Midnighter. He said I fight like jazz. Just before I kicked his face with some good old-fashioned Robin punk rock.”

Tiger sighed. “You worry me.”

“Says the guy with a hole in his leg.”

“It will heal.”

“And you can't heal weird. Point taken.” Dick pulled over to the side of the road. “Gotta pee. You?”

“I should. Are you that excited to help me?”

“Pff. Creep.”

* * *

Dick was seriously flagging come morning. His eyes burned and itched and he couldn't stop yawning. Tiger was still weak, but well-rested. At least that was something.

“We should find somewhere to eat,” Tiger said. “Take that exit.”

Dick didn't feel like arguing. He took the exit and they soon found themselves in a small, dusty town that was only just beginning to wake up. They parked out the front of an old-fashioned 1950's-style diner and Dick helped Tiger inside. They settled in a booth in the corner, where they could easily see the door.

The young waitress who took their orders seemed nice enough, but Dick didn't have the energy for conversation. He ordered coffee and pancakes and tried to stay polite. Tiger ordered juice and an omelette he probably wouldn't finish in his condition.

Dick's stomach lurched when he laid eyes on his breakfast, unable to get the image of Tiger's blood out of his mind, so he went for the coffee first. It was too hot to drink yet and burned his throat and tongue, but he felt a little more in control upon finishing it. The waitress came along and refilled his cup with a smile.

“Long night?”

“Very,” Dick replied, picking up his knife and fork. “Thanks for the refill.”

“No problem, hon. Refills are on the house. Give me a yell if you want another one.” She headed off to tend to the other customers.

Tiger took a bite of his omelette. “We should find somewhere to sleep tonight.”

Dick psyched himself up to eat a bite of his pancakes. “You can sleep in the car. I'm not comfortable stopping for too long. We've only been driving for a day.”

“You need your sleep,” Tiger insisted.

“I'll be okay,” Dick replied, taking a huge gulp of his coffee. “The wall I've hit will go away soon. I'm good for another day.”

“That is not healthy.”

“Neither is getting stabbed.” Dick tried to keep his voice light, despite the fact last night was gnawing at him.

Tiger rolled his eyes. “Fine. We will discuss this again tomorrow.”

“I can't wait,” Dick muttered.

Tiger kept feeding him throughout the day, insisting that if Dick refused to sleep, the least he could do was eat properly. They ate gas station sandwiches for lunch, avoiding the meat ones for various reasons, and got back on the road after refilling the gas tank.

Dick was feeling okay. He'd found his second wind, and some more coffee. Tiger had complained about the amount of caffeine he was consuming, but Dick ignored him. They couldn't afford to stop driving now.

He got through the day without incident. Tiger dropped off to sleep that night, leaving Dick in the company of the radio again.

It wasn't enough.

His eyes had been feeling heavy for the past half hour. He'd bitten down on his cheek to keep himself alert, but even that didn't help in the end.

He only dropped off for a moment, startling awake at the sound of the deep horn and a sharp swerve of their car to narrowly miss a truck. Tiger had grabbed the wheel.

“Pull over,” Tiger said calmly.

Dick gripped the wheel, shaking all over again, and eased the car off the road. “Shit. Fucking—I'm so sorry.”

Tiger jerked his thumb towards the backseat. “Take a nap.”

“We don't have—”

“We will make time. I will wake you.”

“Tiger—”

“Go.”

Dick stepped out of the car, shuddering in the cold, and opened the back door to climb inside. Tiger tossed him the blanket he'd been using.

“Sleep. I will keep watch.”

“You'll definitely wake me?” Dick lay down. He really was tired. He couldn't risk Tiger's life like that again.

“I promise. Sleep.”

Dick burrowed under the blanket. He fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Tiger woke him after ninety minutes of sleep. Dick felt a little better. He continued driving until they stopped for breakfast inside a fast food restaurant. Dick bought a tiny packet of cornflakes, along with some hash browns and a small coffee. Tiger stuck with cornflakes and an orange juice.

“We have to sleep tonight,” Tiger said, offering Dick a sip of his juice. “This is no longer up for negotiation.”

“I can nap in the car again,” Dick replied. “We can't afford to lose an entire night of driving. We have no idea how close we are to getting caught. They could be right behind for all we know.”

“Or they could have no idea where we are.”

“Maybe not,” Dick conceded, “but they have to know where we're going.”

“And that is why we should be well-rested,” Tiger argued. “We have travelled well so far, but it has come at a cost. We cannot have another night like last night.”

“Tiger, I'm—”

“I know you're sorry,” Tiger replied gently. “I forgive you. I... look. I had not intended to bring this up, but... I need to sleep in a bed tonight. For my leg.”

“Is it bothering you?”

“It's stiff, and I may need you to fix the stitches.” Tiger smiled, a little ruefully. “I didn't want to—what's the phrase?—pull the injury card.”

Dick finally acquiesced. “Okay. We'll stay at an inn or a motel or something tonight and I'll take a look at your stitches. How bad does it feel?”

“I can wait for tonight.” Tiger grabbed a map they'd bought yesterday and they worked out plans for the day, finding a little bed and breakfast that had them driving in the direction they were headed anyway.

They finished eating and Dick helped Tiger back to the car. They drove through lunch, eating dry cornflakes they'd stocked up on because neither of them felt like stopping with a full night's rest waiting for them. Dick wasn't looking forward to losing so much travel time, but he had to admit he missed having a bed. And a shower. And a toilet that wasn't a tree or a shitty public restroom. The 'shitty' was literal in some cases.

The promise of a decent night's rest on the horizon kept Dick going through the day, which was just as well because Tiger's condition took a sudden turn for the worse.

“I swear, Tiger, if you pass out on me...” Dick couldn't take his eyes off the road for more than a second, and they couldn't afford to stop driving.

“I'm... awake.” Tiger's eyes were barely even slits and his skin had taken on a concerning grey colour. “Drive.”

“I'm driving,” Dick replied. “Stay with me, Tig.”

Tiger huffed weakly. “Tig.”

“Just checking you're still alert.”

“Screw you.”

“When you're feeling better, sure.” Dick took a right turn. “We're nearly there. Keep your eyes open.” He tried not to think about what could be going wrong with Tiger right now. He just had to keep hoping it was something he could fix. He could see blood beginning to soak through Tiger's pant leg but all he could do was press his bare hand against it. There was no time to reach for anything and he needed a hand to keep driving.

He could've collapsed with relief when he finally pulled the car into a parking spot close to the bed and breakfast. There was no way they could hide this injury from the owners, but that wasn't a huge concern at the moment. He could worry about the owners once Tiger was out of danger.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's concerns about Tiger's injuries are addressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of bloody injuries, medical procedures and sex. That last one is only tangentially related to the first two.

_**A Month Ago** _

It turned out the owners were a married couple, and the wife was a retired nurse. They didn't seem to mind Tiger was bleeding all over the tiles.

“All right, son,” said the wife, “you keep pressure on his wound and I'll get my first aid kit.”

“Thank you,” Dick called after her. Tiger didn't exactly look comfortable sitting on the floor in the entranceway, but the husband had assured them it was clean, having just been mopped before they arrived.

Dick pressed the cloth the husband had given him as hard against Tiger's leg as he dared. The damn stitches had burst open. Dick couldn't help thinking he hadn't done them well enough in the first place. If he had, maybe they could've gotten away with staying here overnight without tipping the owners off that something was wrong. Dick did not feel like answering questions today.

“How are you doing, T?” Dick asked.

“Been better,” Tiger muttered.

“I can see that.” Keeping the optimism in his voice was close to physically painful at this point. What if Tiger didn't stop bleeding? What if he died? What if he died because Dick let him sacrifice himself and Dick wasn't a good enough medic to stitch him together properly? This was all his fault. All his fault. All his fault all his fault all his fault all his—

The wife returned with her first-aid kit. Dick helped her cut the leg off Tiger's pants—they were ruined anyway—and they cleaned the reopened wound. Dick tried to numb himself to the whole thing, to Tiger's ragged breathing and the jagged, torn edges of the wound splitting back open. He shouldn't have listened to Tiger when he said he could keep going that morning. Of course Tiger would say that. He was used to pushing his body to its limits, even when he knew he should hold back.

Dick helped keep the wound clean and closed while the wife stitched, not having enough time to wait for the pain medication to kick in. Tiger wasn't lucid enough to notice.

“He's been moving too much,” said the wife as she stitched. “No wonder the stitches didn't hold.”

“We tried to avoid it,” Dick replied.

The wife tied off the final stitch. “Let's get him into bed.”

Dick and the husband carried Tiger into one of the guest rooms. Dick persuaded the couple to let him change Tiger's bloodied clothes by himself. He couldn't imagine Tiger would be comfortable with total strangers undressing him. His shirt was sweat-soaked and had come into contact with a small amount of blood, but it was salvageable.

Dick got him into shorts and a sweater; the nights had been cold lately. The couple brought in extra pillows to elevate Tiger's bad leg.

With that settled, Dick's attention switched to dealing with the night's accommodation. “We should—”

“We'll deal with it tomorrow,” said the wife. “I'll bring you something to eat.”

“Thank you.” Dick had to make a conscious effort to avoid collapsing on the bed. The wife left to make dinner while the husband rustled up some thinner sheets for Tiger.

Dick moistened a washcloth and pressed it against Tiger's damp brow. “The worst's over, T,” he said. “Just hang in there.” By Dick's estimates, the amount of blood Tiger had lost wasn't enough to kill him, but it had certainly weakened him. Dick wanted to hope Tiger had enough strength left in him to get through the night, but he was fresh out of optimism.

Dick paid such little attention to dinner that, if asked later what he'd eaten, he would not have been able to answer. Tiger woke long enough to drink some water and eat a few crackers before falling into a heavy, snoring sleep.

Dick watched him for a while until he was comfortable with the steady rhythm of his breathing. He retreated to the bathroom, in dire need of a shower and a few minutes to himself.

The water was too hot, coming down in burning needles against his skin. He needed it that hot. He needed to feel something other than the blanket of despair that had him trapped in his folds.

Dick rested his forehead against the slippery wall of tiles. This whole experience had emptied him of every ounce of energy he had. He couldn't feign optimism without energy, and he certainly didn't have the real thing just lying around. The steamy air was heavy in his lungs and it made him want to cry. He'd wasted so much of his strength resisting the feeling for days now. With nothing left to stop it, all he could do was let it happen.

He felt even more exhausted when he finally stepped out of the shower. He pressed a cool washcloth over his eyes to bring down the redness before he returned to the bedroom.

Tiger, the alertness in his eyes at odds with the shadows beneath them, watched him cross to the bed. “Are you coming to bed?”

“In a minute.” Dick climbed into his side of the mattress. “How are you feeling?”

Tiger closed his eyes. “Drained.”

“How's the pain?”

“Manageable.”

“The medication kicked in?”

Tiger nodded. His eyes were still closed.

“Can I check your other injuries?”

Tiger nodded and let Dick lift his shirt. He winced a little at the pressure Dick put on his cracked ribs. The flesh wound from a grazing bullet had scabbed over and the bruises coating his torso were fading to yellow.

“Everything looks fine,” Dick said, letting the shirt fall. “Do you need anything?”

“More water?”

Dick poured a glass from the pitcher the owners had left for them. Tiger's hands shook too badly to hold it, so Dick gently tipped it against his mouth for him.

“Come to bed,” Tiger said to him once the glass was set aside.

“Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you.”

“I'll be fine.” Tiger reached for his wrist, his grip distressingly weak. “You need to rest as much as I do.”

Dick didn't have it in him to argue. He started off on the edge of the bed, not wanting to hurt Tiger in his sleep, but Tiger tugged at his arm. He didn't give it up until Dick curled up by his side.

“You did well, Dick,” Tiger whispered. “Thank you.”

Dick didn't deserve his thanks. He wanted to cry some more, but he swallowed it down. Tiger's fingers traced the bones of Dick's hand.

“I mean it.” Tiger was too weak to sound stern, but Dick got the intent. “You saved my life again.”

“It shouldn't have been necessary this time,” Dick muttered, shoving his face into the pillow.

“Dick.”

He didn't want to get into it right now. “Go to sleep, T.”

* * *

_**Now** _

“Are you still experiencing pain, Master Tiger?” Alfred had Tiger on the examination table in the batcave's med bay. Bruce was hovering at the edges of the room. He hadn't wanted Tiger down here, but Dick and Alfred combined had shut him down. Dick stayed as close to Tiger as Alfred would allow. He had to know how badly he'd fucked up.

“Sometimes,” Tiger replied. “I've had issues with overuse.”

“I can see that,” Alfred said, examining the angry scar that had once been a gaping wound. Dick knew how traumatic stab wounds worked; the skin would heal faster than the internal injuries. It was all too likely Tiger's leg was a disaster zone beneath the surface.

“How bad?” The words were out of Dick's mouth before he could stop them.

“I will need to scan the injury to be certain,” Alfred replied. “Master Bruce, if you're quite done hovering, do make yourself useful and bring me the subdermal scanner you insisted we required the last time you went on a spending spree.”

Bruce stalked out of the room without a word.

Alfred gently probed the scar. “I see there was an incident with the stitches.”

“I used my leg more than I should have,” Tiger replied.

“Or the stitches weren't strong enough,” Dick added.

Alfred peered at the jagged edges of scar tissue that were the result of the day Tiger's stitches popped open. “Given the amount of tearing, I am inclined to agree with Master Tiger. Weak stitches would have left far less physical trauma when broken.”

Tiger's expression managed to be both stern and smug at the same time as he tilted his head in Dick's direction. “I told you so.”

“While you're playing around with English slang,” Dick replied, “here's another one: bite me.” He still should've taken better care of Tiger after the injury, better respected his needs as opposed to Dick's own obsession with running away. Hiding would've been just as reasonable a tactic if he'd put some damn thought into it.

Bruce returned with a device that looked like a high-tech etch-a-sketch with handles on both ends. Alfred held it a few inches above Tiger's scar.

“As I suspected,” he said. “The internal injuries haven't quite healed yet.” He shoved the device back into Bruce's hands. “Now that you are in a safe environment, I would suggest minimising physical activity for two weeks. I will continue to monitor your condition in the meantime.”

“That means no more fighting Cass,” Dick said.

“I will attempt to contain my disappointment.”

“In any case,” Alfred said as he dug through a set of drawers nearby, “it would seem the reopening of the wound was unavoidable in your situation. The medical care you administered was perfectly adequate, Master Dick.”

“I have tried to tell him that,” said Tiger.

“Great minds think alike,” Alfred replied.

“But fools rarely differ,” Dick added, staring right into Tiger's amused eyes. “Hey, I think someone told me that recently. What was his name? I think it started with T and ended with a sort of _grr_ sound, which is pretty apt since that's the sound I want to make ninety per cent of the time he's talking to me.”

Tiger pinched him. “The feeling is mutual.”

Alfred passed a small bottle to Tiger. “This lotion will help you manage any discomfort you may experience in the scar tissue.”

“Thank you.”

Alfred shooed Dick and Tiger out of the med bay shortly after that. They took their time climbing the steps to account for Tiger's leg. Tiger smirked the whole way to their bedroom.

Dick snatched the lotion out of Tiger's hands. “Sit. And quit smirking.”

Tiger sat, shucking off his pants so Dick could apply the lotion to his leg. “I told you so.”

“You said that already.” Dick uncapped the bottle and smeared a healthy dollop over the jagged scar tissue. “Fine, there was nothing wrong with my stitches. I didn't account for the fact they might pop open and bring about the freaking apocalypse.”

Tiger sighed away his humour. “Must you always find a way to blame yourself?”

“Force of habit,” Dick muttered, massaging the lotion into Tiger's skin.

Tiger ran his thumb across Dick's cheekbone. “We were on the run. You had to make hard decisions for both of us. Now we're here. You clearly did something right.”

Dick kissed Tiger's knee and went to wash his hands. Tiger followed him into the bathroom, resting his hands on Dick's hips as Dick ran his own under the tap.

Tiger kissed his neck. “Let me take your mind off this.”

Dick dried his hands. “I'm pretty sure that counts as physical activity, T, especially since all your favourite positions put a lot of strain on your legs.”

“Then we will have to be creative.” Tiger pressed against his back; he was already getting hard, of course. “You are a problem-solver, Dick. I'm sure you have an idea.”

“I do,” Dick replied. “Go lie down. Preferably without your clothes. And be patient.”

As soon as Tiger was gone, Dick shut himself in the bathroom and found the lube in a drawer under the sink. He felt like preparing by himself today. Maybe he just wanted a few minutes alone. Or maybe he felt like charging into the bedroom without preamble and taking Tiger's cock in one swift slide, just to see the look on his face. It was probably both.

He took his time, kneeling on the pristine shower mat, letting himself relax into the sensation. He did love Tiger's desperate pace, the impatience to get him ready as quickly as possible so they could get to the main event, but every so often Dick could use a little more time.

It was easier to let himself have that time now he was in a place he trusted, rather than whatever condemned apartment they'd dragged themselves into for the night. They had only stayed in the nicer places when they were between cities and didn't have much of a choice. Then again, _nicer_ generally meant there was no risk of a roof collapse.

Dick added a second finger. He wondered what Tiger thought he was doing in here. To be honest, he'd probably figured it out already. It wasn't like there was much else he could be doing.

Dick hadn't touched himself very much since he and Tiger had agreed on a relationship. Their sex drives usually aligned so well that it was unnecessary. The rare occasions either of them did while the other was nearby usually ended with them joining in. Dick didn't mind that, but today he felt like adding a little mystery to the whole thing.

Not that he could ever say that aloud without Tiger laughing at him.

Dick was well and truly hard by the time he was ready. He half-wanted to charge out the door and onto the bed where Tiger would be if he'd damn well listened, but no. He was in control here. It'd be good for Tiger to let someone else take the reins for once.

Dick opened the door, leaning against the frame to watch Tiger, who watched him right back from his place on the bed.

“Nice to see you can follow instructions,” Dick said.

“I try.”

Dick snorted. “I know how impatient you can be.”

“Speaking of impatient...”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dick threw the bottle of lube at Tiger, who caught it instinctively. “Make yourself useful. I'm not sitting on the equivalent of a dry log.”

Tiger was already hard, which wasn't a surprise given how long Dick had left him to his own devices. Dick didn't move from the doorway until Tiger had rolled on a condom from the nightstand and dealt with that particular problem with the lube. Then he climbed on the bed, crawling along Tiger's legs until he found his place.

“Hi.”

Tiger rolled his eyes. “Hi. Get on with it.”

Dick pressed his finger over Tiger's lips. “Shh. This is my show.”

“The ratings are poor so far,” Tiger said against his finger.

“ _Ouch_.”

“It can still be salvaged.”

“I don't know, Tig. My feelings are screaming in pain right now.”

Tiger snagged Dick's finger between his teeth. “Tig again?”

“You brought it on yourself.”

“Did I?” Tiger's lips closed around Dick's finger. He stared right into Dick's eyes as he sucked, taking it right down to the knuckle.

“You can never just let me take charge, can you?” Dick said, fighting the urge to shudder.

Tiger smirked around his finger.

“I'll take that as a no.” Dick laughed; it kind of tickled. “Believe it or not, I had planned to get on with it already, but you just _had_ to rush me.”

Tiger pulled off his finger with a very deliberate _pop_. “Is that so?”

“Yep.” Dick shuffled forward until he could feel Tiger's cock brushing against his ass. “This whole time—” He slowly wrapped his hand around the base, “I'd planned to get out here and do _this_.” He dropped down, taking his cock right to the hilt in one slide.

Tiger groaned, his fingers digging dimples into Dick's ass cheeks. “ _Ngh_. Showoff.”

“Crybaby.”

Tiger squeezed him tighter. “Just move.”

Dick kissed him before doing as he was told. “You're being very demanding today.”

“I'm always demanding.”

Dick snorted. “You try, but you're too nice to really push your luck.”

“ _Nice_?”

Dick dug his fingers into Tiger's shoulders and kicked up the rhythm. “I guess I don't normally make you work so hard for it, huh? I should do that more often. Builds character.”

“If you insist.”

Dick laughed; the sensation carried all the way through his body, making him clench around Tiger in an interesting way. “You're such a pushover.”

“I am not.”

“You are.” Dick leaned forward to kiss Tiger's nose, his cock rubbing against the man's stomach as he went. “All I have to do is say _please_ and you roll over like a well-trained puppy.”

Tiger rubbed circles around the tip of Dick's cock with his thumb. “Do I?”

“Mm. Keep doing that.”

“Are you avoiding the question?” Tiger teased, his hand hovering barely an inch away from Dick's shaft.

Dick shoved himself down on Tiger's cock with a particularly hard thrust, enjoying a moment of satisfaction when Tiger's smirk fell off his face with another groan. “I thought it was rhetorical. Yes, you do and you know it. Want me to prove it?”

“Will it involve stopping until I agree to do something ridiculous?”

“Probably.”

“Then no. I will take your word for it.”

“Good answer.”

Dick needed more, so he kicked up the speed again, grabbing the headboard behind Tiger for more leverage. He found a good angle, hitting just the right spot again and again. Tiger finally stopped teasing and wrapped his fingers around Dick's shaft, matching his rhythm to the one Dick had set. Their kisses were messy, teeth and noses knocking together, kisses broken by the desperate need to breathe, those breaths coming in gasps faster and faster and faster.

Dick lost it first, lips glued shut to hold back what surely would've been a wail loud enough to carry all the way down the hall, spilling over Tiger's hand onto his chest and chin. Dick had an errant thought that Tiger would have to wash his beard quickly to stop it getting stuck there.

The bed creaked ominously as Dick kept moving, the insides of his thighs slick with sweat against Tiger's skin. It didn't take much more to bring Tiger over the edge with him, grinding down as Tiger's fingers dug deep into his hips as he came.

Dick resisted the temptation to just flop on the bed afterwards, first cleaning all traces of his orgasm from Tiger's body and beard with a washcloth he then rinsed extra-thoroughly before leaving it in the laundry hamper.

Tiger was stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, upon Dick's return. “Feeling better?”

“I am,” Dick replied, finally letting himself melt into the mattress at Tiger's side. “I'll work on the 'not blaming myself for everything' thing.”

“Good. You worried me.”

“I'm sorry.” Dick kissed Tiger's collarbone. “Let's just rest for a bit. I could use a nap.”

“Anything you like,” Tiger said warmly, running his fingers down the bridge of Dick's nose.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiger and Dick grapple with issues of morality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired as hell but I wanted to finish this chapter before going to bed.

_**A Month Ago** _

Tiger slept later than usual. Dick made a half-hearted attempt to wake him for morning prayers, but it wasn't going to happen. He was fairly certain Tiger would be forgiven for missing a prayer while he was recovering from severe blood loss.

Dick ate in a chair he'd dragged over to the nightstand to use as the breakfast table. Tiger stirred, his face pinching with pain. Dick grabbed a bowl of fruit salad and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” he said quietly as Tiger opened his eyes. “Think you can eat?”

“My leg is burning,” Tiger murmured.

“I figured. I'll give you some medication, but you have to eat first.” Dick helped Tiger sit up, trying not to wince along with him, and fed him the fruit. Tiger's hands were still shaking too much to be of use. Tiger got through half the bowl before he shoved Dick's hands away. Dick gave him some pills and helped him hold the glass of water to wash them down.

“What time is it?” Tiger asked.

“Eight in the morning,” Dick replied. “I tried to wake you before sunrise, but it wasn't happening.”

Tiger nodded, rubbing his eyes in a share show of exhaustion. He rarely let Dick see that except for when he was in poor health. Like now.

“I need to make up for it.”

“Would you like some space?”

“Yes. Just a few minutes.”

Dick took his dishes out to the kitchen. The wife was already washing up.

“I'll take care of them, dear,” she said.

“Need a hand with anything?” Dick asked, setting his dishes among the others waiting for their turn in the sink.

“What about your friend?”

“We've barely had a moment away from each other lately,” Dick replied. “He wanted a few minutes to himself.”

“All right. Grab that towel and get drying.”

Dick grabbed a dripping dish off the rack. “Where'd your husband get to?”

“I sent him out for some lemons,” the wife replied. “I have plans for dessert tonight. Will you be staying another night?”

“I don't know yet.” Dick really didn't want to stay in one place too long, but if Tiger needed more time to recover, he'd have to suck it up. “We'll see how my friend feels at checkout time.” Dick had seen enough lemons for a lifetime after that undercover-as-married mission in suburbia. Better than coconuts, at least. He hated those things.

“How did you two end up out here?” the wife asked, passing Dick another dish to dry.

“Long story,” Dick replied. “We're not on the run from the law or anything, so you don't have to worry about the police showing up and accusing you of harbouring fugitives.”

“It wouldn't be the first time we've had questionable guests.”

Dick snorted and put a pile of dry plates away. “Oh, we're plenty questionable. Don't worry about that.” He had missed talking to normal people. There was always a tiny part of him these days that warned him there were plenty of people with ulterior motives out there who liked to play pretend, who had never been normal in the first place. He'd encountered his fair share of them over his life.

One, just once, he'd like to meet a normal person who was actually normal. He had his hopes for the owners of this place, but there was always a chance he could be wrong.

Dick headed back to the bedroom after helping with the dishes. Tiger was alert and reading from his Quran. It was a miracle the book had survived their escape thus far, given practically everything else had gone wrong at some point.

“Hey,” Dick said quietly. “Am I interrupting?”

“No.” Tiger held his hand out. An invitation. Dick sat beside him, pressing his lips to Tiger's knuckles. “You need a shave.”

Dick chuckled, rubbing the stubble on his cheek. “Maybe I'll keep it.”

“It looks terrible.”

“Heh. You could use a trim yourself. And you must feel disgusting after not bathing for a while.”

Tiger shut the book. “I do. On both accounts.”

“We've got time. Let's do something about that.” Dick had to take most of Tiger's weight; Tiger was keeping off his bad leg entirely and wasn't yet strong enough to hold himself up without support. Dick sat him on the closed toilet lid and carefully shaved the facial hair Tiger didn't keep as part of his beard. Tiger made a few half-hearted threats about what he'd do to Dick if he cut him, but Dick laughed them off. Tiger didn't like being dependent on other people and Dick was more than happy to let him keep his coping methods. Frankly, he was just glad Tiger was still around to talk to him.

It wasn't a great idea to get the bandage over Tiger's stitches wet, so Dick helped Tiger climb into the empty bathtub and wet a washcloth in the sink to clean off the layer of grime that had accumulated over the days they hadn't had access to shower facilities. Tiger made a quiet complaint about the humiliation before he stopped talking entirely. Dick couldn't blame him. He'd hate to be in his position, too.

“Checkout's at ten,” Dick said, perfectly capable of carrying an entire conversation on his own. “We'll have to decide whether we're staying or leaving soon. Leaving would be safest, but I don't want to risk making your leg worse if you're not ready to travel.”

He cleaned as close as he dared to the bandage, quickly towelling the leg dry before any water could drip onto it. “We'll have to replace the car soon. Maybe we can sell it for scrap the next city over. We're only few hours away, so we'll be there well before dark. My family should have a safehouse there we can use to rest and resupply—maybe even take one of their cars—but I'd rather avoid using the comms until we're close enough to make a break for it if our communications are intercepted.”

Tiger grunted in acknowledgement, but didn't offer any additional commentary. Dick had him lean forward a little so he could wash his back.

“I'll look into letting the family know I'm alive without giving up too much information, but my hopes aren't high. Either way, it's a safe enough place to stay overnight and there should enough food and medical supplies stored there to tide us over for a few more days.” With the way they were travelling, they were more than a week away from Blüdhaven and all of Dick's old safehouses. Most of them weren't in the batcave's computer system and he even had a handful he'd never told the family about. There, he would send a proper message to his family so they knew there would likely be enemy agents in Gotham. It would probably be safest to stay in Blüdhaven until Dick was certain they could enter Gotham safely. Fighting was not an option.

Tiger's bad leg was shaking from the effort of keeping it off the bottom of the tub. Dick rolled up a spare towel and set it under Tiger's knee. “Better?”

“A little.”

“We're nearly done,” Dick assured him. Tiger didn't particularly appreciate Dick having to clean the more intimate areas of his body for him, so he didn't linger on that.

“We should leave today,” Tiger said after Dick had gotten him out of the tub and into a dry towel.

“Are you sure you'll be be okay?”

“Yes,” Tiger said shortly, accepting the clean shirt Dick passed him. “I can dress myself. Pack.”

“All right.” Dick kissed Tiger's forehead and left him in the bathroom. He took a few minutes to get their things together. He'd left most of it in the car.

He found the bits of tech he'd cobbled together to make his radio to Bruce while at Spyral buried in the bottom of a knapsack. Dick had made one final attempt to make contact with him before leaving Spyral altogether. He'd mostly cut off contact with the family as things got riskier, but as close as Spyral had come, they had never actually discovered his makeshift radio. Bruce, of course, didn't pick up because he didn't even remember he had children. Dick had left a heavily-coded message that one of his brothers would undoubtedly stumble across at some point. He was fairly confident they knew he'd left Spyral by now.

Dick finished packing and dumped everything in the car before going back for Tiger. The husband had returned from fetching the lemons, so he helped get Tiger into the front passenger seat.

“I'll be along in a minute,” Dick said to the husband, who went back inside. Dick grabbed enough cash to pay for the night's stay and, after a moment's hesitation, a small black container that held the few hypnos he'd managed to squirrel away.

“You cannot wear them for long,” Tiger warned.

“I know.” He just needed them long enough to alter the owners' memories. Completely erasing their presence would be difficult in the time he had with hostile technology, but he had another idea that could work.

The hypnos did not want to go in his eyes and he had to resist the urge to rip them back out with every step he took.

Both the husband and wife were behind the front desk. Dick paid for the room.

“Tell your friend to take it easy,” said the wife.

“Thanks,” Dick replied. He focused; controlling two subjects at once could be risky, but he didn't have time to screw around. “Thanks for stitching me up last night,” he said. “Travelling on my own with my leg like that has been difficult.”

“Oh... you're welcome.” The wife swayed a little on the spot, but it was working.

“Take care of yourself,” the husband added.

“I will. Thank you.” Then Dick left as quickly as he could, his head throbbing, eyes burning.

He got the hypnos out as soon as he was in the car and dabbed at the blood rolling over his bottom eyelids with a tissue Tiger passed him.

“That was dangerous,” Tiger said.

“I couldn't make them forget us entirely,” Dick said, ignoring his complaints. “They think I'm travelling alone and injured, so if Spyral does get information from them, they won't be looking for two people.”

“Why the injury?”

“So they don't overestimate us.”

“Good.” Tiger passed him a bottle of water. “Can you drive?”

“In a minute.” Dick's eyes had stopped bleeding. He gulped down several mouthfuls of water and got the car started. His head still ached, but he could deal.

They needed to get out of here.

* * *

_**Now** _

“What's your body count?” Jason asked.

Tiger looked at him.

Dick sighed. “Jason.”

“Hey, you don't have to be here for this conversation.” Jason was portioning globs of dough on a baking tray while Dick and Tiger watched from their stools on the other side of the counter. It made Dick nervous, like this was the precursor to something terrible. Alfred was elsewhere in the house, but since he was the one who had passed Jason the recipe book, there was nothing Dick could do but watch his brother bake.

“I don't know,” Tiger finally answered. “More than you.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Do you have a point, Jason?” Dick asked.

“Not really.” Jason slid the cookie tray into the oven and started filling a second. “It's just not often Bruce lets a killer stay in the house. Me? I'm special.”

“You're really not,” said Dick.

“Hey, which of us came back from the dead like the freaking messiah? That's right. Not you. Because you faked it.”

“I already let you punch me over that, Jay.”

“I can't believe Damian didn't do the same.”

“He didn't because he loves me.”

“God knows why.”

“Kid's got good taste in siblings.”

Jason snorted. “We'll see who he likes best when I'm done baking.”

“Food is fleeting, Jason. Besides, Damian will always put up with me because he likes Tiger. Double the power.”

“Leave me out of this,” said Tiger.

“How do you put up with him?” Jason asked.

“I used to call him names,” Tiger replied.

“I grew on you. Admit it.”

“Like a parasite.”

“Ouch.”

Tiger petted his hand. “There, there.”

“Oh, you're so funny.”

“He is pretty funny,” said Jason. “Or maybe I just don't like you.”

“If you didn't care about me in some way, would you have punched me for faking my death?”

Jason threw a wooden spoon, which Dick caught on reflex. “Fuck off.”

“Language, Master Jason.” Alfred slipped past Jason and adjusted the temperature on the oven.

“Yeah, Jason.”

“Please do not antagonise your brother, Master Dick.”

“Yeah, Dick,” said Jason.

“If only you two were as quiet as Master Tiger.” Alfred stepped back out of the kitchen with a bottle of cleaning spray.

“Yeah, you two,” said Tiger.

Jason crossed his arms on the counter and buried his face in them while Dick laughed. Tiger looked quite pleased with himself.

* * *

_**A Month Ago** _

This safehouse hadn't been touched in months, if not years. Dick was mildly surprised the power still worked. He sat Tiger in the spare wheelchair while he beat the living daylights out of the bedsheets and ran them through several wash cycles to be absolutely sure there was nothing creepy living in there.

They sat across from each other at the folding table in the tiny kitchen, eating sandwiches the wife had foisted onto them. Dick had yet to take an inventory of the food stores here, but he suspected he'd find a few things to keep them going. These kinds of safehouses outside Gotham were designed to go long periods of time without use, so all the foodstuffs had to be well-preserved.

Tiger was preoccupied, glaring down at his sandwich as he tore the crusts to shreds. He hadn't been in a great mood all day, for which Dick didn't blame him. But if there was something wrong...

“Hey.” Dick reached across the table, stilling Tiger's hands with his. “What's wrong?”

“Does it bother you?” Tiger said quietly.

“Gonna need a little more clarification there, hon.”

“I told you how I escaped, yes?” Tiger let the crusts fall to his plate. “The memory is unclear.”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“Does it bother you that I killed?”

“I haven't given it much thought,” Dick replied. There had been more important things to worry about, such as keeping Tiger from dying.

“Think about it now.”

“Tiger.” Dick squeezed his hands. “You've killed before. We both know that. Why are you only asking me this now?”

“I have tried to avoid killing since you and I...” Tiger sighed. “I know how you feel about it.”

“I appreciate that.” Dick had worried at times their relationship wouldn't survive due to their ideological differences, but he had noticed Tiger taking care to avoid kill shots even when they would've been faster. Another agent in the field had even accused Tiger of going soft, though he stopped complaining after Tiger threatened to soften his jaw for him.

“I went to great lengths to keep what I had done in the past so you would not feel conflicted,” Tiger said. “This is the first time I have failed.”

“You were in a life-or-death situation,” Dick replied. “I may not like it, but I understand why it played out the way it did. I'm just glad you survived.”

“Your family...”

“Doesn't have to know. A few of them wouldn't care even if they did.”

“I cannot stop thinking...” Tiger pushed his plate away, scowling when Dick pushed it back because there was still half a sandwich to eat. “I tried to change, but the moment I find myself in a bad situation, I return to what I know.”

“Tiger, you were seriously injured and outnumbered,” Dick countered. “Do you need me to forgive you?”

“You shouldn't.”

Dick came very close to rolling his eyes, but Tiger would shut down if Dick gave even the slightest indication he wasn't taking him seriously.

“Tiger, sweetheart—”

Tiger snorted.

“Shh. You're gonna let me call you that and you're gonna like it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Now be quiet and listen to me.” Dick waited until Tiger was looking at him before continuing. “Maybe I'm going to sound like an asshole, but I'm glad you decided your own life was more important than the people who were actively trying to kill you. I can deal with blood on your hands. I can't deal with losing you.”

“I should not have forced you to make that decision.”

“I forgive you.” Dick rounded the table to stand behind Tiger, squeezing his shoulders as hard as he dared in the man's condition. “When I left you behind that night, I thought for sure I'd never see you again and it _killed_ me. Tiger, I thought I'd left you to die.”

“You did what I told you to do.”

“That doesn't make me feel better.” Dick kissed the top of Tiger's head. “I love you. Finish your sandwich. I'll get these sheets in the dryer.”

Dick checked back after setting the dryer to find Tiger slowly working his way through his sandwich. Good. He paced in front of the batcomputer, thinking.

He did want to send some indication to the family that he was okay. The batcomputer was out of the question; if there were spies in the city, they would be keeping an eye on energy usage. But Bruce knew the batcomputers could suck up a lot of power and usually left alternatives. Dick just had to find one of them here.

He found a laptop stashed in a drawer near the batcomputer and settled himself in the chair while he waited for it to turn on. Tiger wheeled his way over.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing what I can do about communicating with my family,” Dick replied. “I won't send anything tonight, just in case. I'll do it right before we leave tomorrow.”

“Is that wise?”

“Spyral has to know where we're headed. It's not rocket science, and I've _done_ rocket science.” Dick found a messaging program. “Ah. Here we go. I'll use this tomorrow and the signal will get buried in all the other traffic. That'll be fine.” He closed the program. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Tiger admitted.

Dick set the laptop aside. “I'll redress your stitches and then you can rest in the med bay until the bedding's ready. How's the pain?”

“Annoying.”

“I should be able to rustle something up to help with that. Come on.”

* * *

_**Now** _

Bruce cornered Dick while the family was crowding around the cookies. “A word?”

“I suppose.” Dick followed Bruce out of the room. “What's this about?”

“Tiger.”

“Of course.” Dick wasn't surprised. Bruce hadn't said much to him outside that particular topic of late. They ended up in Bruce's office. He occasionally held business meetings in here, but he generally preferred to do all his work in the batcave.

“I need to know his history,” Bruce said, sitting on the edge of his desk.

“I don't know much,” Dick admitted. “He doesn't like talking about it. I know the name he uses is a nickname he must've gotten in Afghanistan. Kandahar, to be specific. He's mentioned having to survive in war-torn streets before. And I know he's killed. That's what you wanted to know, right?”

“Yes.”

“He's been avoiding it since he and I got together.”

“Does that make you his moral compass?”

Dick snorted. “Tiger's perfectly capable of thinking for himself. I just get the feeling he's never been offered an alternative to killing before.”

“That's not comforting.”

“I can't say I'm jumping at the chance to put him in harm's way after we just got out of it, but I think you'd be more comfortable if the two of you trained together.” Dick was probably going to regret that suggestion. “Once he's healed, obviously. I didn't drag him semi-conscious across the country just to let him fuck up his leg again.”

“Can he keep up?”

Dick snorted. “One time we got in a fight on a ship and one of our opponents said he moves like you. I think he'll be fine. He handled himself against Cass well enough.”

“And you're comfortable knowing he's killed before?”

“Like I said, he's never been offered an alternative.”

“Dick, you like to see the best in people.”

“I would've cut ties with you long ago if I didn't,” Dick replied. “Maybe you've never noticed, but you're kind of an asshole.”

“Jason tells me that on a regular basis.” Bruce's face was too severe for Dick's liking. “It's clear I have to spend more time with Tiger. I have yet to see what you see in him.”

“Are you questioning my taste in men or my trust in people?”

“Both.”

“Psh. Asshole.”

“I'm only letting you get away with that so you don't pull the 'you left me in enemy territory' card again,” Bruce warned.

“Speaking of which...”

“No.”

“All right, I'll let you off the hook just this once.” Dick was also being an asshole. He quite enjoyed it.

“Are you certain Tiger has stopped killing?”

It would have been easy to say yes, because that was technically the truth. He wasn't actively killing people. He was exploring non-lethal methods of defeating his enemies. There was just the one time where he'd had to choose between his own life and those of the people trying to kill him.

“You're _not_ certain,” Bruce concluded, watching the expressions Dick had tried to keep from his face.

“It was life-or-death,” Dick said, since the jig was up anyway.

“When you left him behind,” Bruce assumed.

“He feels bad enough already. He didn't want to do it, but he had to make a choice.”

“So he says after the fact.”

“And Jason still goes out and kills people he could've dropped off at the police station,” Dick snapped. “You let him in the house and go out of your way to avoid arguing with him.”

“That doesn't mean I condone it.”

“But you don't stop him, either, do you?”

“Dick.” Bruce dragged a hand down his own face, drawing attention to the dark circles under his eyes. “I regained my memories only a few weeks ago. I can only fight so many battles at one time.”

“And picking a fight with Tiger is that high on your list of priorities?”

“I'm trying to protect you, Dick.”

“I didn't ask for your protection, Bruce.”

“Are you really willing to compromise your principles for this man?”

“I'm not compromising!” Dick had to stop himself from kicking the nearest chair. “Every sacrifice in our relationship has been Tiger's. He changed the way he deals with his enemies. He changed his goddamn allegiances. He was fully prepared to sacrifice his own life to save mine, and the only way he didn't die in that place is because he made a hard decision that still haunts him. I don't need you wagging your finger at me because I chose not to make that any harder on him than it is already. He wants to change, Bruce. He needs guidance, not a kick while he's down.”

“Tiger is an unknown quantity. I have to be cautious for everyone's sake.”

“Fine. Be cautious. Would it kill you to respect me as an adult who can make my own decisions at the same time?”

“I do,” Bruce said quietly. “That's why I trusted you with the Spyral mission.”

“I...” Dick wasn't sure how to respond to that.

“I can't afford to trust Tiger,” Bruce said, “but I'll spend more time with him.”

“Maybe don't mention I told you what happened that night.”

“For now,” Bruce agreed. “We'll need to discuss it eventually.”

“You were never this bad about the women I dated,” Dick said, hoping to alleviate some of the tension between them.

“They weren't ex-spies and former killers.”

“You were pretty hard on Wally,” Dick reminded him.

“He has superpowers, Dick.”

“So does Koriand'r.”

Bruce sighed and muttered something about Tim never being this much of a handful.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiger would rather avoid his trauma than deal with it.

_**Now** _

Bruce stayed true to his word, but, given he could barely stand to be in the same room as Tiger without turning into a grouch, Dick and Tiger half-wished he hadn't. Tiger's leg had finally healed, leaving only the scar behind as an ugly reminder of how close he'd come to death. Dick didn't like looking at it, but he never let himself flinch away.

Dick wasn't exactly surprised when the nightmares started. Both his and Tiger's minds were finally able to process what the hell had gone on since their escape from Spyral, and part of that processing bled into their dreams.

Dick could usually shake his off by cuddling closer to Tiger. His dreams all seemed to revolve around losing the man these days. Tiger's dreams, on the other hand, were difficult to break and lingered long after he woke.

Tiger's breaths still hadn't quite levelled out minutes after Dick had pulled him out of his nightmare. Dick cradled the man's head in his lap, stroking Tiger's sweaty hair off his face.

“You're okay,” he said quietly. “You're safe. I'm here.”

Tiger squeezed Dick's hand, but his eyes were still distant, reflecting the light of the bedside lamp but giving nothing else away. He wouldn't talk for at least five more minutes, when the tension in his body would finally begin to uncoil, but it wouldn't leave him entirely. There wasn't much Dick could do for him until then.

The dreams were getting worse. They had been a minor issue during their journey to Gotham, but Tiger's overall state hadn't been great anyway. He had improved briefly as he'd healed, but it seemed what he went through in the hours between his disappearance and Dick finding him wasn't going to let go of him without a fight.

Dick was no stranger to trauma, nor was he unused to dealing with traumatised people who weren't open to talking about it. He was fairly confident Tiger wouldn't push him away for trying to help, not after what they'd both been through to get here together. Even so, Dick couldn't afford to go about this carelessly.

Tiger raised Dick's hand to his lips.

“How are you feeling?” Dick asked him.

Tiger met his eyes; he was back, but his grasp on the present was tenuous. “Distract me,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

“That's not healthy, T.”

“...so?”

Dick sighed; Tiger wasn't the only pushover in this relationship. “What do you need?”

Tiger rolled onto his hands and knees, shoving his lips onto Dick's before Dick even registered what he was doing. “I need...” He huffed out a breath and rested his forehead on Dick's shoulder. “I will sound like a fool.” He melted against Dick like all the bones in his body had suddenly vanished, leaving Dick pressed up against the headboard under his full, not insubstantial, weight.

“It's all right,” Dick soothed. “No one's gonna hear you but me.”

“That does not help.” Tiger growled and dragged himself off Dick. “Forget about it.” He threw himself back onto his side of the bed, jerking the covers up to his shoulders.

“I want to help,” Dick said to Tiger's broad back.

“Go to sleep.”

“I'm worried about you.”

“Sleep.”

“Tiger, you're not in a good place tonight. I'm not going to ignore that.”

At first, it appeared Tiger was going ignore him. Then he rolled onto his back to meet Dick's eyes. Little points of tension had carved themselves into his face—the tightness of his jaw, the knot between his eyebrows, the set of his mouth.

“I do not want to talk about it,” Tiger said quietly.

“I won't force you.”

“It...” Tiger dragged his hands through his hair. “I want it out of my head, but it lingers. I need—”

“A distraction,” Dick finished for him. “What kind of distraction?” He couldn't force Tiger to deal with what he'd gone through, and it wasn't a great idea to have that kind of conversation when he was in this state anyway.

“The only one that works,” Tiger muttered. “If you... if you're willing.”

“You mean sex.” Dick had used it to distract himself plenty of times before. It really wasn't healthy, not that Dick was in a position to condemn it without coming off as a hypocrite. “Are you sure it'll help?”

“It helps you.”

“That's fair.” Dick made a mental note to ask Bruce about his therapist contacts on Tiger's behalf. “Still not healthy, though.”

“I am not looking for healthy, Dick. If you are unwilling, tell me.”

Dick sighed. “All right. How do you want it?” He had to climb over Tiger to grab what he needed from the nightstand.

“Like this,” Tiger replied, digging his nails into Dick's thighs. “And can we...?” He broke off, colour blooming in his cheeks. Dick kissed both of them.

“You can tell me,” he encouraged.

“Take me,” said Tiger.

“You want me to top this time?”

Tiger nodded.

“I can make that happen.” Dick set the lube and condom on top of the nightstand so he could pull Tiger's shirt off for him. “I hope you like it gentle, because I'm not great at being rough.”

“It will do.”

“What a noble sacrifice you're making.” He slowly worked Tiger's pants down his hips, kissing every new inch of skin he revealed along the way. “Someone went commando tonight, huh?”

“Shut up.”

Dick laughed, brushing his lips against a vein running like a river between Tiger's abdomen and the dark curls blooming from the waistband of his pants.

Tiger poked his forehead. “Shh.”

“Somebody's touchy.”

“And _somebody_ should do more touching and less talking.”

“Such wit. I'm swooning.”

“I regret giving you this much power.”

“No, you don't.” Dick pulled Tiger's pants down enough that the man's semi-hard cock made an appearance. “Hello, there.”

Tiger threw an arm over his face. “You are embarrassing.”

“Think about it this way...” Dick kissed the tip of the man's cock. “I may be embarrassing, but at least it makes you look cool by comparison.”

“I _am_ cool.”

Dick snickered. “That's adorable.”

Tiger nudged the side of Dick's face with his knee. “How many times must I tell you I am not adorable?”

“Normally people call you cute,” Dick said, just to be a shit. “This is slightly different.”

“The principle is the same. Now get on with it.”

Dick inched Tiger's pants down as slowly as he could, just to annoy him, until Tiger made a noise of protest. Laughing at him, Dick pulled them off and tossed them away with no further teasing. Well, about the pants, anyway.

He took his time, dropping little kisses across his lover's skin. Tiger poked him with his foot when he finally grabbed the lubricant. Dick bit the inside of his thigh.

“So impatient,” he chided gently before he opened the bottle and gave Tiger what he wanted. It was hard to tease noises out of Tiger at first, but Dick was used to hanging around quiet people. Tiger's breaths said more than any words ever could. He also squirmed like nobody's business when Dick hit just the right spot.

Tiger leaned forward to drag Dick in for a bruising kiss, gasping against his lips when Dick added a second finger to the first inside him. Dick pushed him back down.

“Relax,” he said.

“I would if you stopped teasing me.”

“Oh, I'll show you teasing.”

Tiger muttered something under his breath that wasn't in English. Dick got the message anyway and added a third finger, revelling in the sense of power he had over this man's body right in that moment. Tiger muffled a groan against the crook of his elbow.

“Bite yourself much harder and you're gonna draw blood, babe.”

Tiger let his arm fall to the mattress. “ _Babe_?”

“Come on. You love it.”

Tiger rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”

“It's _romantic_.”

“Now is not the time for romance.”

“I think having another man's fingers up your ass is the perfect time for romance, T. After all, I'm trying to make you _feel things_.”

Tiger shook with the effort to keep himself from laughing. Dick found that spot inside him that never failed to make his whole body spasm, the surprise shaking Tiger's focus just long enough to let out a tiny trickle of laughter before he regained control of himself.

“I knew you thought I was funny,” Dick said.

“You tickled me,” Tiger insisted.

Dick hit that spot again. Tiger grabbed fistfuls of the bedsheets, swearing through clenched teeth.

“Fuck me,” he breathed.

“What's the magic word?” Because Dick was in a funny mood tonight. And because Tiger had asked for a distraction and always, _always_ responded when Dick provoked him.

“Ngh. _Please._ ”

“Well, since you asked so nicely...” Dick was still dressed, and it was just as well he slept in nothing but boxers on all but the coldest nights. He didn't have the patience for a long striptease right now, not after spending the last several minutes teasing Tiger, and himself.

Tiger's fingers dug into his shoulders the instant Dick pushed into him. “Harder,” he insisted. “I will not break if you move faster than a snail.”

Dick rested a finger on Tiger's lips. “Shh.”

“I will bite your finger.” Tiger's voice was only slightly muffled.

“Do that and I'll give you a wet willy. Oh, wait. I'm already doing that.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Do you?” Dick snapped his hips forward, smirking when Tiger lost a puff of air. “Do you _really_?”

“Damn it. Keep doing that.”

Dick hooked one of Tiger's legs around his waist. “I'll think about it.”

Tiger lifted the other one to match. “ _Do it_.”

Dick dragged his thumbs across Tiger's cheekbones, melting down to kiss him. Tiger kissed back with a vengeance, catching Dick's bottom lip between his teeth. Dick dug his nails into Tiger's scalp in response. A slow roll of the hips had Tiger falling back onto the pillow, his hands shaking as they ghosted along Dick's arms on either side of his head.

“You like this,” Dick whispered.

Apparently, Tiger had spent all his antagonism for the night. “Fine. I do.”

“I knew you would.”

“Do not push your luck.” Okay, maybe not _all_ his antagonism. But that was part of his charm.

Dick rubbed deep circles into Tiger's temples with his thumbs, urging out all the tension he held throughout his body. By inches, Tiger relaxed beneath him, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes. Tiger traced the shape of Dick's lips with his finger, which made Dick smile and Tiger smile back.

That was everything Dick had hoped for when he'd given in to Tiger's request. Tiger was so often a ball of tension that it made Dick genuinely worry about his health.

“I know what you're doing,” Tiger said quietly. His breath hitched as Dick twisted his hips to hit just the right spot.

“Oh?” Dick kissed the finger held against his lips. “And what am I doing?”

“Taking care of me.”

Dick set Tiger's hand down, kissing his knuckles on the way. “Is that a problem?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Tiger stopped bothering to hold his legs around Dick's waist. It wasn't necessary right now. Dick liked the way Tiger couldn't keep them still, how they kept brushing against his hips, how his feet tangled amongst Dick's legs. Tiger dragged him closer until they were pressed flush against each other, his fingers dancing along Dick's ribs like a piano.

They could have gone on like this forever, it seemed, until Dick gently, lovingly stroked Tiger's cock as it was trapped between their bodies. He rocked Tiger through his orgasm, catching the moans with his lips. His own followed, small but satisfying in its own way.

He coaxed Tiger to sleep afterwards, resting his head on the man's chest.

* * *

Tiger woke at his usual time. Dick was asleep on him, and that complicated matters. Even after they had run away together, their internal clocks had never quite synchronised. Tiger hated waking him. The fact Dick never got mad about it just made the whole thing worse.

Tiger tried to slide out from under Dick's head without jostling him. He failed. Naturally.

“Mm?” Dick stretched out, eyes closed, and Tiger took the opportunity to get up while he still could. Dick got _clingy_ in his sleep.

“Go back to sleep,” Tiger said quietly, hunting for a pair of pants.

Dick grasped at the spot Tiger had been lying. “Prayer time?”

“Yes,” Tiger said, putting in a concerted effort to avoid condescension. Dick wasn't great at mornings, generally needing a cup or two of coffee before he was functional at this kind of hour. He was a little better when he woke of his own accord. Tiger's observations over these past two weeks had led him to believe it was a family thing.

“Coming back?”

Tiger found pants, his lungee and a clean shirt that was probably Dick's. “I don't know.”

Dick whined into his pillow.

“Sleep,” Tiger insisted. “I will see you later.” He retreated to the bathroom to wash up and dress, letting the running water drown out Dick's sleep-addled complaints. The idea of going back to sleep wasn't particularly appealing. Even Dick couldn't make the potential for more nightmares any less worrisome.

Tiger forced the guilt away and returned to the bedroom to retrieve his Quran, grateful that Dick had already fallen back asleep. Damian would be waiting for him. Tiger had only beaten him to the room once, and Damian had been suffering some lingering effects from fear gas at the time. Dick had doted on him all day, with Bruce coming a close second. It was the least grouchy Tiger had ever seen the man.

As expected, Damian was already in the room when Tiger got there. It was nice having someone else to pray with. They were not a particularly chatty pair, especially at this hour, but neither of them felt a particular need to change that. It was enough to be in each other's company.

They spoke a little after prayers. Conversations full of silences and short answers. There was no pressure to be sociable for the sake of the more outgoing members of the family.

“How was patrol?” Tiger asked.

“Interesting,” Damian replied. “Todd shot a mugger.”

“Did he live?”

“Yes. His foot, however, did not.”

“Did your father say anything?” Tiger was aware Dick had blown up at Bruce for letting Jason get away with more than he usually would.

“Only when Todd pestered him about it,” said Damian. “Drake said he was looking for attention, as much as I hate to agree with him.”

“I take it your father will be in a worse mood than usual, then?” Just what he needed.

“Does it matter? He hates you anyway.”

“Thank you for reminding me.” If the ten-year-old could pick up on it...

“Sorry.”

“I did not expect an apology.”

Damian shrugged. “Grayson told me I should apologise when I hurt people's feelings. He would be unhappy if he learned I hurt yours.”

“I have a thick skin, Damian,” Tiger replied, “but thank you all the same.”

“Grayson would still be unhappy on your behalf.”

“He does that.”

Damian let out a soft gust of air in lieu of a laugh. “He does. Is he waiting for you today?”

“He went back to sleep before I left,” Tiger replied, hoping that was still the case. Dick's concern for him was all well and good, but he needed a break from it. He didn't want to go back to sleep and he just _knew_ Dick would insist upon it considering how much sleep they'd lost the previous night.

“He usually expects you to join him, yes?”

“Not today.”

“ _Ugh_. He is more insufferable than usual on the days you don't go back to him.”

“Are you giving me relationship advice, Damian?”

“No!” Damian looked so disgusted by the very notion that Tiger couldn't help but laugh and punch his shoulder. Dick always got misty-eyed when Damian did normal ten-year-old things. Frankly, Tiger wasn't exactly sure what was normal for a ten-year-old in America, but it seemed, in Dick's eyes, that the more immature he behaved, the better.

“Are you sure?” Tiger needled, because if there was anything he'd learned from watching Dick deal with Damian, it was that the boy could use some good, old-fashioned teasing. He kept it to a minimum most days, because he got the sense Damian went to him to get a break from the rest of the family sometimes.

“Shut up.”

They parted ways shortly thereafter. Tiger noticed Damian walked with a slight limp, but didn't mention it. Alfred often complained about tending to a family full of terrible patients. Tiger, admittedly, wasn't much better.

Tiger ducked back to the bedroom he shared with Dick to change into sweats, moving quietly as possible to avoid waking the man, who was still passed out, lying face-down and spread-eagle on the bed.

There was a gym in the manor that didn't get much use from the family, since all the good equipment was in the batcave. Tiger wasn't exactly welcome down there, so he would have to make do with an inferior workout. It wouldn't make much difference at this point since Tiger needed to ease himself back into his exercise regime after such a long time in recovery.

Naturally, because he didn't feel bad enough yet, he just had to run into Bruce on the way.

“Training?”

“Shouldn't you be asleep?” Tiger replied, because his brain turned to nothing around Dick's father.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn't you?”

“I did not patrol the city last night.”

“I've conditioned myself to run on smaller amounts of sleep than the average person.” Because of course he had. “Dick mentioned Alfred cleared you for training. Returning after an injury can be difficult.”

“I have experienced it before,” Tiger replied. He really wasn't in the mood to talk to this man right now. Talking to Damian was simple enough, since it was fairly easy to avoid topics that pissed him off. Bruce was a different matter entirely. Any topic could become a minefield in a matter of seconds.

“Having a trainer can still be useful,” said Bruce.

“Are you offering?” _Please say no, please say no, please say no_.

“Yes. Come with me.”

There was no way to turn him down. Damn it.

* * *

_**A Month Ago** _

Dick couldn't remember the last time he had been in Blüdhaven, only that it felt like a lifetime ago. Legally speaking, that was true.

The pair had changed cars three times by now. The one Dick currently drove was easily the worst, spewing noxious fumes into the air as the engine coughed and occasionally refused to start without a whole lot of coaxing. Dick planned to take the damn thing apart as soon as they got into the safehouse.

At least having such a shitty car meant he and Tiger went virtually unnoticed in the bad neighbourhoods, including the one in which he'd set up the safehouse they'd chosen for the night. It was one of the few he'd never told the family about, so the likelihood of anyone finding him here was next to zero.

Dick helped Tiger into the makeshift kitchen, leaving him with a sandwich they'd bought just outside the city limits while Dick dressed the bed in the sheets he'd taken from the previous safehouse. Tiger was halfway through his sandwich when Dick returned. Both his mood and appetite had improved with his leg. Moving was still difficult, but at least they'd had no further incidents with the stitches.

“We're about twenty minutes away from Gotham,” Dick said, dumping a can of beans into a pot on the stove. “More if the traffic sucks. I'll get a message to the family tomorrow morning and then we'll switch safehouses. I don't want to hit Gotham until we have an opening.”

“There will be agents in the city already,” Tiger replied. “Are you going to share that?”

“If you like.” Dick stirred the pot and grabbed a loaf of bread out of the freezer for toast. “Glad to see your appetite's coming back.” They hadn't eaten a lot of hot food lately. Even beans felt like a luxury. “I'll get the family to clear out as many agents as they can find so we can get in the city undetected.”

“How many safehouses do have you have in this city?” Tiger asked.

“Enough to hold us over for a while, even if we have to keep ditching them.” Dick stole a piece of lettuce off Tiger's plate. “How's the leg?”

“Stiff.”

“The bed's ready if you want to lie down.”

“Later.” Tiger caught Dick's hand when he tried to steal a bit of egg. “Sit with me.”

“Let me deal with dinner first, then I'll sit as long as you like.”

Tiger let Dick slip his hand out of his grip. “You better.”

Dick tossed the frozen bread into the cheap toaster. The two slices came out slightly burnt at the edges. He drowned them in beans to hide his sins, shoving the plate towards Tiger. He repeated the process with his own meal.

Watching Tiger eat with steady hands was more fulfilling than the meal itself. He could get through full days without needing to nap now, though Dick still encouraged him to rest whenever possible. Moving remained a problem, one that he was increasingly ill-tempered about, especially when Dick offered assistance.

“Do you realise you are staring?” Tiger said.

Dick smiled at him. “Yeah.”

Tiger narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Tiger twisted his lips to fight off a smile as colour crept into his cheeks. “I love you, too.”

“I'd sincerely fucking hope so.”

Tiger almost spat out his beans while Dick laughed at him. They weren't okay. Things were a goddamn mess. But they were surviving.

Dick got a chair into the shower afterwards, ignoring Tiger's complaints that he could stand long enough to wash himself. He listened to the water as he sat on the bed, turning his makeshift radio over and over in his hands. As much as he hated remembering Bruce's memories were gone, holding onto this piece of junk, something created to talk to the man before it all went to shit, was almost comforting.

He wasn't sure if his family had found the message he'd sent from this thing weeks ago. It was hardly important now, since he'd sent another one through the usual channels at their previous safehouse. He hadn't programmed any way of telling if there were new messages, since it would be suspicious if it was ever discovered to be anything other than scrap materials. The only way to know for sure was to turn it on.

Which he did on the off-chance one of his siblings had tried to get a message to him. But the voice that came through didn't belong to one of them.

Bruce's voice. It wasn't an old message, either, since he deleted them immediately for the same reasons he didn't have any kind of message alert.

“ _Birdwatcher, this is Mr Malone._ ”

“No way,” Dick breathed, because the last time he'd heard anything from the family, Bruce was still an amnesiac. Apparently that had changed.

“ _Apologies for the delayed response. Preparations are being made to accommodate your decision. I would have preferred a more measured approach, but we should discuss that in-person when possible. I trusted you to make decisions without my guidance from time-to-time, but perhaps I left you alone too long._ ”

“You think?” Dick hissed. If only this were a live conversation. He had a few choice words for the man. The water in the bathroom shut off.

“ _I expected you to continue as normal for as long as possible. I can only hope this decision doesn't render your previous work obsolete. Respond through the other method when your arrival is imminent so we can make arrangements. Mr Malone out._ ”

“Fuck you, Bruce,” Dick said and shoved the radio deep into his backpack.

“Is something wrong?” Tiger emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. His bad leg was shaking.

“Sit down,” Dick said.

Tiger sat. “Well?”

“Bruce has his memories back, apparently.”

Tiger lifted a set of underwear from the pile of clothes Dick had left on the bed for him. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Dick let himself fall backwards onto the mattress. “He's just being an ass.”

“I see.” Tiger set his towel aside and pulled on his pants. “What has he done?”

“Telling me off for leaving Spyral. Which wouldn't have been an issue if he'd left something behind in the event something happened to him.” Dick laughed a little, because he didn't know what else to do. “Don't mind me. I'm just bitter.”

Tiger ran the towel across his chest and through his hair. “I can see that.” He leaned over and pecked a scratchy kiss on Dick's cheek. “Forget him, just for tonight.”

“I'd very much like to.”

“Good.” Tiger ran his fingers across Dick's chest. “There are other things we can do, if you understand my meaning.”

They hadn't had sex since Tiger's injury. “If you pop your damn stitches again, I swear...”

“We will be creative.”

Tiger needn't have bothered getting dressed. Dick was more than happy to forget about Bruce for the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiger doesn't want Dick to worry. Unfortunately, he is terrible at making that a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive. I finished Camp NaNoWriMo for April way quicker than planned and with some words left over if I wanted to try for the usual 50k goal, so I'm making up the difference with fic. But life is exhausting so no promises.
> 
> There's nudity, implied sexytimes, discussion of torture, and puking in this chapter.

_**Now** _

The warmup was fine. Tiger was perhaps a little more tired than usual afterwards, but stretching out his muscles gave him a chance to get his breath back before Bruce kicked him onto the weights. At least Tiger didn't have to talk to him much.

He was shaking afterwards, but Bruce didn't give him a moment to rest. “Treadmill. Now.”

Tiger bit back his complaints, if only because he refused to give the man any satisfaction. He stretched out his calves before stepping onto the machine. He'd barely been running ten minutes when his leg started aching, but he wasn't about to show weakness in front of Bruce. His leg was healed. He would cope.

Bruce increased the speed. “Is this all Spyral's best can give me?”

Tiger resisted the urge to grit his teeth and pushed himself onward. He couldn't afford to cut off his oxygen. At least he'd been prepared for Bruce to act like an ass well before he and Dick had arrived at the manor. The man was used to having his orders followed, no matter how poorly he treated his people.

In short, Tiger never would have given this man the time of day if not for Dick's sake.

“Are you torturing my boyfriend?” Dick was leaning in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket and pale from sleep. There was an imprint on his cheek from his pillow. “It's too early for this, Bruce,” he said, stifling a yawn in his blanket-swaddled hand.

“Go back to bed, Dick.”

“Have you even _been_ to bed?”

“Probably not,” Tiger replied on Bruce's behalf, a little out of breath. Bruce lowered the treadmill speed, little by little, until it was down to a walking pace.

Bruce shot Dick a look that Tiger couldn't see from his vantage point. Dick smiled back.

Bruce shut down the treadmill. “Cool down before you leave. You'll be sore later.”

“Thank you,” Tiger said, even though he felt anything but thankful. Bruce clapped Dick on the shoulder on his way out.

Tiger hopped to the floor and stretched out his sore quad muscle, holding onto the nearest treadmill handle for balance.

“You better not have hurt yourself.”

“My leg is fine,” Tiger insisted.

“I'll run you a hot bath.” Dick vanished from the doorway.

“Go back to bed,” Tiger called after him.

“You first,” Dick shot back.

Tiger headed to the kitchen first to grab a cup of coffee for himself and some earl grey for Dick, picking up a few freshly-baked pastries Alfred foisted on him as well.

Dick wasn't in the bedroom when Tiger finally got there, so he peered into the bathroom. Dick sat naked on the edge of the bathtub, swirling his hand through the water to stimulate the bubbles.

“You're a sweetheart,” Dick said, accepting the tea. “Figure you can eat without dropping crumbs in the water?”

“Better than you can,” Tiger replied, stripping off and climbing in the bath. Dick dragged a stool over to hold the pastries and joined him.

“Good thing Alfred gave you extra plates.” Dick set his tea on the stool and grabbed a plate, plucking a chocolate danish from the platter. “He probably read your mind.”

“I thought your father was opposed to metahumans in his city.”

“Well, we've never been able to prove or disprove Alfred's superpowers.” Dick carefully bit into the pastry, catching the crumbs with the plate.

Tiger poked around the platter for a bit before he picked an apricot danish. “Some days I cannot tell when you are joking.”

“I'm always joking. Except when I'm not.”

“Helpful.”

Dick smiled with his mouth full, flecks of pastry sitting on his lips. Tiger wanted to lick them off. He made do with imagining it. Vividly. Dick was probably bendy enough that they could make it work without too much drama, but Tiger was drained after the workout. And from not sleeping much. But mostly the workout.

Dick finally licked the crumbs off his lips. “You should rest after this.”

“I should not.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “You're such a Bruce sometimes.”

“Should I be insulted?”

“Tim's the same,” Dick continued, ignoring him. “Not so much the girls. Damian tries to copy Bruce sometimes but he's still young enough that we can make him eat and sleep when he's supposed to. Most of the time. Jason fluctuates, depending on how he's feeling. At his best, he takes better care of himself than anyone I know. At his worst... oh, boy.”

“And you?”

“I'm a hot mess,” Dick said mildly, taking a sip of his tea.

“I know that.”

“Then why'd you ask?”

“Perhaps I expected some introspection.”

Dick snorted. “I prefer to keep my introspection _inside_. Otherwise it's just extrospection.”

“Is that even a word?”

“Does it matter?”

It didn't. At least, not to Dick. So Tiger let it go. He didn't have the energy for one of Dick's ridiculous arguments.

“Okay, but seriously,” Dick said, setting his empty mug aside, “you really should rest. My family and I might be the poster children for unhealthy coping mechanisms, but that doesn't mean you should join us.”

“You realise I'm drinking coffee, yes?”

“I'll watch out for the caffeine crash later,” Dick replied. “Think about it, though. I could be persuaded to join you for a cuddle. Naked.”

“I hardly think there will be much sleeping.”

Dick collected a blob of bubbles on his foot and used said foot to rub them into Tiger's shoulder. “Baby steps. Sex makes you sleepy.”

“You are no better.”

“I'm still getting more sleep than you, which, honestly, is just not right.” Dick flexed his toes against Tiger's skin. “I'm not used to being the stabilising influence in my relationships. Well, except for Kory. We took turns.”

Tiger felt a stab of jealousy; he wasn't used to that. “You've mentioned this Kory a few times.”

Dick flushed a little. “Sorry. We're just good friends now. You've got nothing to worry about.”

“Who is he?”

“She,” Dick corrected. “You might know her as Starfire.”

“The alien?”

Dick nodded, a little sheepish, and that pulled a laugh out of Tiger that he hadn't even known was near the surface. Dick visibly relaxed.

“Do I want to know what's so funny?”

“Barbara was right about your taste in women.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Well, obviously. She was one of them. Also a good friend and nothing to worry about.”

“Do you normally remain friends with your ex-partners?”

“Whenever possible.” Dick set his plate aside. “I have enough drama in my life without maintaining several grudges against people who don't deserve it. Should I list off my exes so you know who to glare at?”

Tiger took the gentle chastisement with as much grace as he could muster. “No. I'll cope.”

“Good, because if something goes wrong and we need superhuman help, you'll want them on our side.”

Okay, that piqued Tiger's curiosity. “How many superhuman exes do you _have_?”

Dick smirked. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

Tiger didn't press the issue. Dick was being a good sport, but it was never a good idea to push his buttons when Tiger still didn't quite know the man's limits outside of professional betrayals. Good-natured teasing was fair enough—Dick was the king of that—but this was a topic that could all-too-easily slip into something nastier.

Dick lifted himself from the bottom of the bath and found his way into Tiger's lap. “You know who's not my ex?”

“Who?” Tiger indulged, his hands slipping over Dick's skin as the man settled against him.

Dick kissed his nose. “You.”

That was nice, but... “I don't need reassurance, Dick.”

“Don't you?” Dick sat back, with pure evil glinting in his eyes. “Then I guess you don't want the handjob I was about to give you.”

“...maybe I do need reassurance.”

Dick slid his fingers across Tiger's chest, thumbs brushing his nipples. “That's what I thought.”

* * *

_**A Month Ago** _

The tension in the car was palpable as Dick and Tiger approached the border to Gotham. Dick, at Bruce's suggestion, had grudgingly chosen to use the evening peak hour as a cover for their arrival. If this went wrong, he'd kick the man's ass himself.

Tiger had caught some kind of bug. It wasn't a surprise, given his immune system was a wreck. He had thrown up everything he'd tried to eat the previous night, so Dick had kept him on water and crackers today. He'd kept that down, but was now running a fever that kept him just out of reach of lucidity.

Dick had done what he could before they left the safehouse—plying him with medication from their first-aid kit, getting as many fluids into him as possible, covering him in a thousand blankets to keep him comfortable for the trip—because now all he could do was focus on the road and throw a few comforting words in Tiger's direction.

“'M fine,” Tiger mumbled, his eyes glued shut.

“Oh, sure, because you sound so goddamn fine,” Dick snapped back. Okay, so maybe he wasn't being as comforting as he should have been. He'd run out of patience about five minutes ago at Tiger's insistence there wasn't anything wrong with him.

Tiger hadn't bothered putting on his lungee today and had refused Dick's offer to help. It was probably just as well, considering it made him far more recognisable to the exact people they didn't want recognising them.

They were sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic. The very definition of a sitting duck. They were barely moving, so Dick took the opportunity to tuck one of the blankets back around Tiger's shoulder.

“You with me, T?”

Tiger mumbled something Dick couldn't quite catch. His eyes were still shut.

“Think you can drink some water?”

Tiger nodded the barest amount. Dick kept one hand on the wheel as the traffic rolled forward a few inches, lifting a bottle of water with a straw in it to Tiger's lips with his free hand. Tiger took a few weak sips before his head fell back against the headrest.

A small woman in all black was weaving through the traffic behind them. Her movements were familiar. Dick tried to remain optimistic. The bike pulled up next to their car and tapped the window, lifting the visor of her helmet for a second. Cass.

Dick rolled down the window and Cassandra passed him an earbud. Then she sped away.

“This better not lead the bad guys to us,” Dick muttered, pressing it into his ear. He rolled up the window. “Anyone on this frequency? Or frequencies. Whatever. I'm tired.”

Jason's voice floated into his ear. “The big guy's busy kicking ass. But we're all here.”

“Remember the safehouse we hid in that time we all got a faceful of that weird fear gas that made us scared of electronics?” Tim said. “That's your destination.”

“Ah, memories,” Dick replied. “Still low-tech in there?”

“As low as we get,” Tim answered. “You'll be harder to track.”

“Whose idea was that? I'd like to send them flowers when this is all over.”

“The demon's, actually,” Jason replied.

“I'm right here!” Damian complained.

Dick's heart already felt lighter, hearing all their voices, even with all the bickering. _Especially_ with all the bickering. Just like home.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dick said warmly. “Keeping out of trouble?”

“Never.”

“Good boy.”

“Your way into the city should be clear,” Tim said. “The girls will make sure to keep it that way.”

“Black Bat says you've got a friend with you,” Stephanie said. “And that he's injured.”

“The med bay should be fully stocked,” Tim said. “We can bring you anything else if you need it.”

“Who is this guy?” Jason asked.

“A friend,” Dick said vaguely. He was really not in the mood to deal with that particular can of worms right now.

“Helpful.”

“Don't judge me. I'm stressed.”

The buildings, those glittering lights against the darkening sky, were getting closer. Dick wasn't sure if it was making him more or less stressed. He wanted to cry, but that could mean anything these days, given it was a feeling he experienced often ever since Tiger had been injured.

“Okay, but seriously? Where did you find this guy?”

“The sidekick store,” Dick replied. Tiger grumbled in protest beside him.

“Yeah, yeah. The big guy's gonna want answers eventually.”

“It can wait until we're not sitting in traffic and waiting for the apocalypse,” Dick replied.

“I _am_ the apocalypse,” Jason replied.

“Funny.”

“Someone had to pick up the slack while you were playing dead.”

“If I let you punch me again, would you feel better?”

“Probably.”

They kept moving forward by inches. Dick was ready to explode out of his seat. The constant honking from impatient commuters set his teeth on edge. A large hand squeezed his arm.

“You should be sleeping,” Dick said.

Tiger raised an eyebrow, his eyes much clearer than they had been even a few minutes ago. “I'm better rested than you.”

“You're also sick.”

“I'll be fine.”

“Do not start that again.” Dick shrugged off his arm. “We're not going anywhere for a while, so you may as well get comfortable.”

“You trust your family, yes?”

Dick nodded.

“Then why are you so worried?”

“Is that a serious question?”

“Is it me?”

“You can't fight,” Dick replied. This was not a good time. “You can't run. If we're found...”

“Your family will help us,” Tiger told him. “We will get to safety and I will re—” He slammed his lips shut, his body tensing all over. Dick thrust a paper bag in his direction. Tiger barely got it open in time. At least there wasn't much to come up today. Dick helped him drink some water when he was finished.

“Get some rest,” Dick said, reaching over to swipe Tiger's sweaty hair off his face. His skin was still hot.

Tiger swallowed, nodded and closed his eyes again.

There were more motorcycles roaring and weaving through the traffic. Dick didn't like the look of it.

“There are a lot of motorbikes around, guys,” he said into the communicator. “Like, more than I've ever seen in my life.”

Stephanie replied first, “We can—”

“Keep the entrance guarded,” Tim replied. “Hood and I will take care of it.”

“Where's Robin in all this?” Dick asked.

An engine rumbled through the communicator. “Watching the big guy's back,” Jason replied. “Sit tight. Coming you save your ass.”

“My ass appreciates it.”

The Red Hood and Red Robin zoomed past. Dick forced himself to keep breathing. He had his escrima if he had to fight, but the odds of his family letting anyone close enough were pretty slim in the first place.

The pair mowed down several of their opponents and several others broke off to flee in the opposite direction.

“We'll keep an eye out for more,” Tim said. “Just keep driving.”

* * *

_**Now** _

Tiger managed to catch a few minutes of sleep before the caffeine hit his system in earnest. Dick grumbled like an infant when he tried to extricate himself from the man's grip. _Tried_ being the operative word. Dick was in full octopus mode, arms and legs completely wrapped around Tiger's body.

The caffeine was kicking up Tiger's heartbeat. He needed to do something. Lying still was not going to happen, no matter how much Dick clung to him in his half-asleep state.

“Dick...”

But Dick was already falling back asleep. Damn it.

He had to wait until Dick was snoring before he could attempt to lift Dick's limbs off him, little by little, until he was free. It was still early in the day; the others would only just be getting up for breakfast. Sometimes, after particularly gruelling nights, he and Dick were the only ones at the table.

Tiger wasn't hungry. He returned to the gym, stretching the aches out of his muscles. The stab wound on his thigh was healed, but it still ached sometimes. It would improve with exercise. Eventually.

He also knew it would improve faster if he slept better, but that wasn't going to happen. He did not want to relive what he'd experienced during those hours Dick had taken to find him even one more time. Not only did it tear him to shreds every time, but the worry on Dick's face every time it happened was enough to make him want to disappear. Dick had enough trouble coming to terms with that already without Tiger adding to his concerns. Not that Dick would ever accept that explanation. He cared too much.

Tiger still had days when he felt Dick cared about him far more than he would ever deserve. Even if he completely changed and managed to stop himself from killing ever again—not that it had worked out too well so far—it still didn't erase the terrible things he had done in the past. Dick would always deserve better than that, and Tiger would never be able to give it to him. He would never understand why Dick was so willing to stand by him after everything he'd put the man through.

“I'm gonna regret asking this...” Jason had ended up in the doorway at some point. Tiger kicked himself internally for not picking up on it sooner.

“But you will ask anyway?”

Jason sat on the floor in front of him, lifting one of his legs to rotate his foot. “Landed weird on my ankle last night,” he explained. “I'll live.”

“You would be the expert, I take it?”

Jason snorted. “I am.”

Tiger dug his palm into his thigh to massage out the tension. “What did you wish to ask?”

“What is it with you and Dick right now?”

“Perhaps if the question were not so vague...”

“You're both miserable and it's weird. Even Damian's noticed.”

Tiger wasn't entirely sure how much he wanted to share. “It is... complicated.”

“Life is complicated,” Jason replied. “I'm asking you because Dick got it into his head forever ago that he shouldn't share his problems with us. Some kind of big brother thing. But I want to know, because for some reason, I actually care about the little asshole. So, you obviously got hurt at some point.”

“Our enemies found me while I was buying supplies,” Tiger said. “They took me away and tortured me. Dick tried to mount a rescue, but we were outnumbered and I convinced him to leave me behind. I managed to escape—sustaining life-threatening injuries in the process—but he cannot forgive himself for listening to me.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Sounds like him.”

“He's trying,” Tiger said. Because Dick _was_ trying. Tiger hated making Dick feel worse about it. Every time he couldn't hide his nightmares from Dick felt like a failure.

“So what's _your_ issue?”

“I know your history,” Tiger said. “You've been tortured.”

Something tightened in Jason's expression. “I have. Nightmares?”

Tiger nodded, even as he felt far too exposed for his liking.

“Oh, I bet Dick _loves_ that,” Jason muttered. “I'll knock some sense into him. And you...” He smiled ruefully. “Well... in our line of work, sometimes we need professional help. Bruce has contacts. Dick's probably asked about them on your behalf already.” His smile twisted a little at Tiger's expression. “Yeah, I figured you wouldn't go for it. But, you know, the option's there if you change your mind. Or you can get over yourself and talk it out with Dick.”

“He has enough—”

“It'll hurt him,” Jason admitted, “but you'll both feel better in the end. He loves fixing things. Or trying to.” He patted Tiger's shin and got up. “Just something to think about. I get weird about this shit, too. So this was awkward for both of us.” He backed towards the door. “But, look... there's not a person in this house who hasn't dealt with some heavy shit. We all have trouble sleeping sometimes. You're in good company.” His hands found the doorframe. “Anyway. Breakfast. You coming?”

It would have been rude to say no after everything Jason had said to help him. Tiger eased himself to his feet and followed him down to the dining room. It was still quite early, so only Cass was there when they arrived. Alfred was still in the kitchen.

The others trickled in over the next few minutes. Mercifully, Bruce was not among them. But neither was Dick. All going well, he was fast asleep. Or all _not_ going well, he was mad at Tiger for leaving.

Barbara arrived with a memory stick, which she tossed to Tim. “Pattern analysis. Need a second set of eyes.”

Tim had brought his laptop down this morning, so he plugged it in right away. Alfred pointedly moved Tim's plate away from the keyboard.

Barbara filled a bowl with oatmeal. “'Morning, Tiger.”

“'Morning,” Tiger replied.

“Where's your other half?”

“Waking up alone,” Dick replied, falling into the chair next to Tiger. “Hello, stranger.”

Tiger rolled his eyes. “I had coffee. I warned you.”

Dick plucked Tiger's coffee cup off the table. “Okay. No more coffee for you.” He then drained the cup in one go, wincing at the bitter taste. Tiger didn't usually sweeten his drinks unless he was in just the right mood.

“Ah.” Tim hunched over his laptop. “I see what's going on. They're backing off. Weird.”

“They have to know Dick and Tiger are still in the city,” Barbara added. “That's why I was concerned.”

“As you should be.” Tim's fingers flew over the keys. “We'll need to pass this on to Bruce. Dick managed to plant some bugs at Spyral's HQ. Maybe they're still working.”

“Assuming they haven't been found yet,” Dick said.

“Unlikely,” said Tiger. Spyral regularly swept all their holdings for unauthorised equipment. It would have been a miracle if anything Dick had planted lasted more than few days.

“I got creative,” Dick replied. “You never know. I once managed to get a bug in Helena's office to last a week before they found it.”

“You're lucky you were not caught.”

“I lead a charmed life,” Dick said off-handedly, spooning fruit into his bowl.

“We might have to capture some agents and interrogate them,” Jason said.

“I'll help,” Stephanie offered. Cass raised her hand in agreement.

“We'll have to be careful,” Tim said, still squinting at the screen. “We don't want to confirm Dick and Tiger's location.”

“Don't mention them,” Barbara said. “We could be looking out for our city for all they know.”

“No one likes spy organisations muscling in on their turf,” Jason added. “We'll be careful what we say.”

“For once in your life,” Tim muttered.

“That goes for you too, kid.”

“What's your angle on this?” Barbara asked Tiger.

“Spyral has split into several smaller factions,” Tiger replied. “It is hard to know how many people we are dealing with, or even who is in command. If the infighting is severe enough, they may be leaving to deal with that first. Or they may be regrouping and will return with a vengeance. Spyral does not give up without reason, regardless of who is in control.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Dick added unhelpfully. “We know Helena Bertinelli is in charge of at least one faction, but we're not exactly sure where her loyalties lie. If she's involved, we can probably reason with her.”

“We would need to speak with her directly,” Tiger said.

“Yeah, the big guy's not gonna let that happen,” Jason replied. “We could always disobey him, but you probably wouldn't be allowed in the house ever again.”

“So let's avoid that,” said Dick.

Tiger certainly didn't need to give the man any further reasons to distrust him. If he weren't so concerned about Dick being stuck in the middle of any conflict between them, he mightn't have cared. Bruce was a difficult person to tolerate at the best of times. Under different circumstances, he mightn't have bothered.

Dick and Tiger left the planning in the hands of the others, with Dick extracting a promise that they would fill him in later. Tiger wasn't sure if he would be included in that. If Bruce had a say, probably not.

What Jason had said to him earlier was swirling in his head. He didn't want Dick to worry about him anymore, but clearly his approach wasn't working. Keeping his mouth shut was just worrying him further.

Maybe they should talk about it, but Tiger didn't know how. Dick, however, probably would. If Tiger could get it started, Dick could help him finish it.

Now he just had to figure out how to start this conversation.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Tiger have their talk. On the flashback side of things, Dick and Tiger make it to safety and Dick is struggling to hold himself together for Tiger's sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding in some of the main plot stuff from Grayson, with the Daedalus possession of Helena and Dick, and Tiger's other allegiances. But I'm not going to have him shooting a certain character since we're already going with some canon divergence anyway.

_**A Month Ago** _

Tiger was incoherent again by the time they finally made it to the safehouse. Dick was running on the leftover fumes of adrenaline as he got the man into bed.

The communicator crackled to life in his ear. “Birdwatcher, this is Batman.”

“Birdwatcher here,” Dick replied tiredly, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. “How's it looking out there?”

“Too quiet. We will sit up a rotating patrol for the rest of the night.”

Despite Dick's frustration with the man, he couldn't deny the comfort that came with hearing Bruce's voice. They'd made it to Gotham. Bruce was out there, keeping them safe. Maybe they would be okay.

“How's your friend?” Bruce asked quietly. His voice was too soft, too gentle for Batman.

“He's pretty out of it,” Dick replied. “He got hurt a couple weeks back and his immune system's a wreck.”

“We will need to talk about him at some point,” Bruce said.

Dick sighed. “I know.” He was not looking forward to that conversation.

“It can wait. Get some rest. You've had a long day.” Bruce cut the connection.

Dick filled a glass of water for Tiger and found a bowl in case he needed to throw up again in the middle of the night. Tiger stayed awake long enough to drink and use the bathroom before falling into a fitful kind of sleep, his face twitching and pinching every few minutes. Dick's brain was fogged with exhaustion, but he couldn't sleep. Not while Tiger was so visibly unsettled.

He mopped Tiger's forehead with a damp cloth, trying not to worry too much when he whimpered in his sleep. It was just as well Tiger wouldn't remember this in the morning, because he would be mortified.

“You're okay,” Dick whispered, stroking his cheek. “We're safe.” He kissed his forehead, noting his temperature was rising again. He curled up around him, but, despite his exhaustion, couldn't bring himself to sleep. What if something went wrong? What if Tiger stopped breathing and he didn't notice?

Damn it.

Tim's voice filled his ear. “How's your friend?”

“Feverish,” Dick replied quietly.

“You said he was injured. Could it be an infection?”

Dick had checked before they'd left the previous safehouse. “I... don't think so? I mean, I checked the wound earlier just in case, but...”

Barbara joined the conversation. “Then I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Dick pushed off the bed and found a first-aid kit in the bathroom. “I'll double-check.”

“Let us know if you find anything unusual,” Barbara said. “I'm not far if you need help.”

“Thank you,” Dick breathed. Tiger was already sleeping in his underwear, so it was a trivial matter to get at the bandages around his leg. “Only if it's an emergency, though. This isn't how I want you to meet him.”

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

“Okay, Jervis, pipe down.” The bandages needed changing anyway. He set them aside to examine the wound. The stitches were holding this time, but the amount of activity they were forced to do each day was putting some strain on them. He'd need to keep Tiger in bed for as long as possible now they had made it to Gotham.

“How's it looking?” asked Tim.

“Agitated, but not infected.” Dick swabbed disinfectant across the surface, just in case, and wrapped a new set of bandages around Tiger's leg. “It must be an immune system thing, not an infection. I don't want to move him for a few days if possible.”

“I'll pass that on,” Tim said. “We'll only move you guys if there's an emergency.”

“Thank you.”

“Get some rest,” Barbara said. “You sound awful.”

“I'll try. Goodnight, guys.”

The two of them returned the favour and closed off the connection. Dick settled back into bed, resting his hand against Tiger's chest. He was breathing okay. He would be fine. Freaking out wouldn't help him right now.

Dick took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He slipped in and out of it, jerking awake every so often. Tiger had settled down, his breathing slow and steady. Dick tried to take comfort in that and let himself fall back asleep. It wasn't easy.

He eventually gave up not long after sunrise. Again, Tiger was impossible to rouse for morning prayers, but his fever had gone down during the night, leaving Dick feeling secure enough in his ability to not die so he could take a shower.

The water pressure wasn't the greatest, and the heat flitted in and out every few minutes. Dick braced his arms against the tiles and breathed in the steam, letting his muscles loosen up. He still couldn't quite believe they'd made it to Gotham. _Home_.

That feeling of wanting to cry swelled up in him again, but he didn't have time to linger in the shower. He had to check on Tiger. So he shut off the water and took several deep breaths until he felt more in control.

Tiger was still asleep when Dick returned to the bedroom, towelling his hair dry. He felt his forehead. The fever was still gone. Maybe the worst was over now.

Dick kept himself busy, cataloguing their medical supplies, their food, what vehicles they had access to. That gave him something to do until lunchtime.

Tiger was sitting up when Dick brought him water and crackers, eyes still half-lidded from sleep.

“How are you feeling?” Dick asked softly, helping him drink.

“Better,” Tiger replied. His voice was rough, likely from both sleep and illness.

“Think you can eat?”

“I can try.” Tiger made a face at the crackers, but nibbled on the end of one just the same.

“We're staying here as long as we can,” Dick told him. “My family won't move us unless they absolutely have to.”

Tiger's eyes were unfocused as he swallowed his mouthful, but he nodded in acknowledgement. Dick sat with him while he took his time eating. Neither of them wanted him feeling sick again.

“You should stay in bed as much as possible,” Dick said. “Give your leg a chance to heal properly.”

Tiger nodded. No complaints there, apparently.

“It's the afternoon,” Dick told him, “so you've missed... three prayers?”

“Four,” Tiger replied, starting on a second cracker. “I should have prayed twice last night.”

“Right. Yeah.” Dick had lost track in the stress of the previous night. “I'll grab your Quran from the car after you've eaten.”

“Thank you.” Tiger kept his responses to Dick short after that, his face gaining that grey quality to it again. He couldn't eat a third cracker. Dick made sure the bowl was in reach before he headed to the garage to grab the book.

He walked back in on Tiger hunched over the bowl, retching loudly. Dick set the book aside on the nightstand and rubbed his back. Tiger gasped for breath between episodes, coughing with enough force to shake his entire body.

Dick helped him drink some water afterwards and rinsed out the bowl before helping Tiger into the bathroom so he could wash up before praying. He was well enough to hold himself upright, unlike other times, so he made the effort he had been incapable of in the past.

Dick dug through the freezer while he gave Tiger some time to himself to wash up and pray. As hoped, there were some of Alfred's nutrient-rich icy poles he made specially for days someone was too unwell to eat. Maybe Tiger could keep those down.

Dick threw some frozen bread into a toaster to make his own quick lunch. He wasn't especially hungry after helping Tiger through his vomiting earlier. He picked at his toast. Last night's exhaustion still hadn't quite left him, but Tiger needed his help. He just had to stay strong for a little while longer.

He could do that, right? How many times had he swallowed his own pain for the good of others before? It wasn't new to him. Sometimes it was necessary. You couldn't save lives if you were stuck wallowing over your own shitty life. If Bruce could do it, so could he.

Bruce was also an arrogant ass who didn't put in a backup plan to protect him in Spyral. The amnesia had blind-sided everyone, of course, but the fact he didn't have anything in place at all...

Dick couldn't let himself think about this right now. He was too raw, too close to the edge of having a complete and utter breakdown. The fact they had gotten to Gotham at all was nothing short of a miracle. Dick had done everything wrong, so it certainly wasn't through skill that they were here now.

The toast felt like carpet in his mouth. He forced it down. He needed the strength. Or, more specifically, Tiger needed it from him.

Dick washed his dish and put it away. He leaned against the counter, fighting to keep his breathing under control. Calm. He had to stay calm.

Just for a few more days.

* * *

_**Now** _

Tiger had been antsy all day. Dick wanted desperately to ask what was wrong, but there was something in his demeanour that made him think that wasn't such a good idea.

He was quiet at dinner, though that likely had at least something to do with the fact Bruce had joined the family tonight. He frowned into his food as he ate, and Dick had to fight the urge to smooth out the crease in his eyebrows with his own fingers.

Jason, oddly, was watching them from across the table. Dick sent him a questioning look, but Jason shook his head, looking firmly at Tiger. So Jason knew what was up, but expected Tiger to say something. Great. Dick wasn't sure who would be harder to get answers from.

Tiger dragged him away from dinner as soon as they were both finished eating, barely lingering long enough to excuse them both. Bruce wouldn't like that, but, then again, he didn't like anything Tiger did.

Dick kept his mouth dutifully shut until they'd returned to their bedroom. Tiger crossed to the window, glaring out for a second before jerking the curtains shut.

“I hate windows,” he muttered.

“They're missile-proof,” Dick replied. “I guess that doesn't help with the _people can spy on us_ thing, though.”

Tiger sat heavily on the bed, dragging Dick down with him. “I'm sorry about today. I have been thinking.”

“What about?”

Tiger met his eyes, but broke contact mere seconds later. “I'm worrying you.”

“Well, yes. We already know that.”

“Jason spoke to me this morning.”

“I figured he must've said something,” Dick replied. “He was staring at us all through dinner.”

“He had advice. About you.”

“Relationship advice?” From Jason? In any other moment, Dick might have laughed himself sick over that. Lack of relationship experience aside, Jason didn't like outwardly giving people advice. Though, for someone who claimed not to like it, it seemed to happen quite often.

“The family has noticed the problems between us,” Tiger explained. “Apparently even Damian is aware.”

“Damian can be very perceptive when he wants to be,” Dick replied. Not that he was happy about everyone knowing something was going wrong between him and Tiger. It was a private matter.

“Apparently.” Tiger cleared his throat, finding a spot on the wall to focus his gaze.

“And Jason went to you instead of me?”

“He said you don't like telling your siblings about your problems.”

“I...” Okay, that was fair. “Yeah, he's got a point.”

“He asked about my injuries,” Tiger continued. “How they happened.”

“Did you tell him?”

Tiger nodded. “He said I should talk to you. About the nightmares. He said talking about it would hurt us less than keeping it to myself.”

“As weird as it feels to admit, I actually agree with Jason.” Tiger's nightmares terrified him sometimes, the way they held him so completely in their grasp, even after he'd woken up. There were times when they had such a tight grip on him that he wouldn't be himself for the whole day afterwards.

Tiger swallowed, his eyes drawing down to his own hands. “I don't know how to do this.”

Dick slid his fingers between Tiger's, leaning against his shoulder. “They're about what happened before I found you, aren't they?”

Tiger nodded.

“Maybe we need to talk about that.” Dick wasn't sure he wanted to know what Tiger had been through in the hours before he'd been able to find him, but he needed to hear it all the same. Almost as much as Tiger needed to talk about it.

“You know about the obvious injuries already,” Tiger said quietly. “The ribs, my nose...” His hand trembled in Dick's grasp. “But most of it... they didn't leave a mark. Different methods. The entire torturer's handbook. I imagine they would have deprived me of food and water for days if you hadn't arrived.” He tried to swallow again, but coughed instead. Dick rubbed his back. “I, uh... I have been tortured before. But this time... I don't know.” Tiger opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His breathing was short, his palm sweaty against Dick's.

“We don't have to do this all at once,” Dick said. “Just a little at a time.”

Tiger let out a long breath, some of the tension in his body releasing with it. “Okay. Tomorrow. I will... yes. Tomorrow.”

“You don't have to push yourself.” Dick needed to prepare himself for this anyway, but he would never tell Tiger that. This wasn't about him. The fact Tiger was finally opening up to him was something to be grateful for.

“Thank you,” Tiger breathed. “I love you.”

Dick pressed his cheek against Tiger's shoulder. “I love you, too. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.”

Tiger managed to smile, just a little bit. “I know. Jason wants to speak with you anyway. Something about knocking some sense into you.”

Dick snorted. “Sounds like him. What about?”

“The nightmares. And probably your guilt.”

Dick sighed. Of course. When Jason meddled, Jason meddled _all the way_.

“I'll find him tomorrow. Get this over with.”

* * *

_**A Month Ago** _

Whatever bug Tiger had caught gradually faded away until Dick was no longer worried he was going to die in his sleep. Unfortunately, knowing Tiger needed him on hand had been one of the few things keeping Dick from falling apart. He still needed help, since he wasn't supposed to be moving much, but that still left Dick with minutes at a time where Tiger didn't immediately need him.

Dick didn't deal with his problems so well when there wasn't something immediate to grab his attention. His own mealtimes were the worst, when Tiger knew he was eating and gave him a few minutes to himself. Food had no taste, and Dick took no pleasure in it. He could barely choke down whatever slapdash meal he'd cobbled together. If Tiger hadn't been relying on him, he probably wouldn't have tried so hard.

The family had started asking questions about Tiger now that the immediate danger had passed. Dick didn't know what to tell them. Bruce had been the most insistent, which only made matters worse. At least it gave him an excuse to give up on his dinner today.

“I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone with a person I know nothing about,” Bruce told him over the comm link.

“He's not exactly up and about, B,” Dick replied, dumping his plate in the sink.

“Unless that's what he wants you to think.”

Dick made sure he scoffed loud enough to be heard through the link. “I change his bandages regularly. I know what's going on.”

“Who is this man, Dick?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” Dick muttered.

“Try me.”

Dick sighed. “He's a former Spyral agent.” This conversation was exhausting.

“ _Dick_.”

“Since when do we use real names over the communicator?”

“Don't be difficult.”

Dick sank back into his chair, rubbing his temples. “They _stabbed him_ , B. I don't think they're friends anymore.”

“He could still be playing you.”

Dick had to take a deep breath, or he would have yelled loud enough for this conversation to carry into the bedroom where Tiger was still resting. “He nearly died.” It still hurt to say, especially when he was already teetering on the brink of a breakdown as it was. He couldn't talk about this right now, not if he wanted to keep holding himself together. “B, I have to go.”

“Wait.” Damn that voice. That deep, commanding voice. Dick had never been able to stop himself from obeying an order when Bruce used that voice.

“ _What_?” he ground out through his teeth.

“I need to speak with him.”

“It can wait.” Dick wasn't going to put Tiger through that until he was absolutely certain he was well enough to handle it.

“How long?”

“As long as necessary.”

“Give me a timeframe.”

“I don't know,” Dick snapped. “A week? Maybe two? You're not exactly the kind of person someone can handle when they're laid up in bed. At least wait until he's well enough to get away from you.”

“You're upset with me.”

“ _Really_?” Dick's voice was getting too loud, but he couldn't stop it. “Did you figure that out for yourself? Did you—did you even listen back to that message you left me?”

“I was worried about you.”

“I hung in there as long as I could, Bruce.” Dick could feel his throat protesting against the very concept of breathing. “I left because I couldn't take it anymore. And to hear you say what you did?”

“There had to be another way.”

“Maybe you could've thought of one, but you weren't available. Remember?” Dick went to continue, but he saw Tiger leaning against the doorframe. “Oh, no you don't. Go back to bed, Tiger.”

“Is everything okay?” Tiger asked.

“I'm talking to my asshole of a father,” Dick replied, not even bothering to mute the communicator. He forced himself to soften his voice; Tiger didn't deserve his temper. “Did you need something?”

“It can wait.”

“Okay. Go back to bed.”

Tiger lingered for a moment, his eyes boring right into Dick's, before he gave in and limped back into the bedroom.

Bruce's voice started through the communicator, “Dick—”

“Don't. I had more than just myself to think about when I decided to leave.”

“I'm starting to see that.” There was something in Bruce's tone that made Dick wonder if he'd given too much away. He certainly hadn't planned to say anything about the nature of his relationship with Tiger yet, but Bruce was known to become inconveniently astute about interpersonal shit at the worst possible times. Years back, he'd figured out Dick and Wally were dating through a slight change in Wally's tone of voice.

Dick tried to wrangle his voice into some semblance of calm, with only limited success. “I need to go.”

Bruce let him go without a fight. Dick buried his head in his hands. He felt sick. Almost feverish. By God, if he'd caught what Tiger had...

A large hand cupped his neck. “Are you all right?”

“I told you to go back to bed,” Dick muttered.

“I ignored you.” Tiger's other hand rested heavily on the back of Dick's chair.

Dick balled his hands into fists, dredging up what little self-control he had left. “Let's get you back to bed,” he said, getting up. He draped Tiger's arm over his shoulders and helped him back into the bedroom.

“Bathroom first,” Tiger said. Dick skirted around the bed and took him into the en suite. There was a bar built into the wall Tiger could use to support himself.

Dick retreated to the bed, occupying himself with stripping the sheets and replacing them with fresh ones. He didn't bother too much with neatness; he wasn't trying to impress anyone. That filled the few minutes Tiger was in the bathroom, keeping his mind off everything that threatened to consume him.

Tiger reappeared in the doorway and Dick helped him back into bed. He went to leave, to compose himself, but Tiger grabbed his arm.

“Could you keep me company?”

Dick couldn't deny him that. He climbed into bed. Tiger wrapped his arm around Dick's waist, pulling him in until Dick rested his head on his shoulder.

“Am I causing problems between you and your father?”

“We have plenty of problems without your help,” Dick replied.

“I noticed.” Tiger squeezed him. “You're upset.”

“I'll be fine.”

“You hate when I say that.”

“You were half-delirious with a fever at the time.” Dick just wanted to hide his face in Tiger's shoulder and have a good, long cry. But Tiger had enough to worry about already.

“Dick,” Tiger sighed. “I may have been injured and unwell, but you had to carry me through all this. You are allowed to feel something.”

“Tiger...” Dick swallowed it down. He couldn't let this happen. “If I start, I won't be able to stop.”

“Then don't.” Tiger kissed his temple.

“I _can't_.” He couldn't put Tiger through this. He couldn't put _himself_ through this.

“It will happen eventually,” Tiger said softly. “Better that it happens now, before it breaks you. You've taken care of me. Let me take care of you.”

These past few weeks were too much. That conversation with Bruce was too much. _Everything_ was too much.

Tiger had nearly died so many times. Dick had failed him again and again but he kept trusting him anyway. He didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be held like this, or comforted like this or allowed to fall apart like this. But, for whatever reason, Tiger gave that to him.

Tiger let him ball his hands up in his shirt, press his face into his shoulder.

It didn't solve anything. Bruce was still asking questions. Tiger was still hurt. It was still Dick's fault that Tiger was hurt in the first place. But he'd been holding it all in for so long now.

That exhaustion that had been dogging him for days, that had made holding himself together such a goddamn ordeal, took over. When all the pain had finally exploded out of him, leaving him feeling heavy and light and full and empty all at the same time, all it took was a few soft words, a few strokes down his back, before he fell into a deep sleep. The kind of sleep that had eluded him for months. The kind that held you until you had your fill and you woke the next morning feeling more refreshed than you can remember ever feeling in your life.

That feeling helped Dick steel himself for what lay ahead, with both Tiger and his own family.

* * *

_**Now** _

“You're almost as good at blaming yourself for things as the old man,” Jason said, flicking a grape across the table to land in the centre of Dick's plate.

“Runs in the family,” Dick replied calmly. He and Jason were alone at the breakfast table. Apparently the others had gotten quite banged up the previous night. Jason had somehow managed to avoid the worst of it.

“You need to get over yourself.”

“Any tips?”

“Admit to yourself you had no control over the situation. You'll be scared shitless, but at least you won't be lying to yourself anymore.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Great advice, Jay. Why am I talking to you again?”

“Because I'm the only one brave enough to help you with your relationship problems.” Jason made a face, reminiscent of that time Dick had convinced him to eat a whole lemon. The years had erased the reason from both their memories. “I cannot believe I just said that.”

“You and me both, little wing.”

“Don't start that again.”

“I'm being affectionate.”

“Remind me why I didn't just shoot you when you told me you'd faked your death?”

“Because you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Jason stabbed a grape with his fork and shoved it in his mouth. “So Tiger got captured. You went to rescue him. Shit went sideways. He made the smart decision and convinced you to leave him behind. Why? Because he wanted you to live, and the odds of that happening were pretty slim with him slowing you down.”

“Doesn't mean I have to like it.”

“Truth hurts, Goldilocks.”

“Cute.”

“Let's be honest.” Jason set down his fork, palms flat against the table, and leaned across the table into Dick's face. “I got curious about how he got out of there alive. So I asked him after he and the brat finished prayers this morning. Wonder of wonders, he actually told me. Do you seriously think he could've done that with you around?”

“No,” Dick admitted.

“So leaving him behind saved both your lives.” Jason fell back into his chair. “Sucks to admit it, but you made the right decision. Now you both have to live with it. Has he started talking to you about the nightmares yet?”

“We've started,” Dick replied. “Don't want to rush it.”

“Eh, fair enough.” Jason stabbed a stack of pancakes with his fork and dragged them onto his plate. “Where is the man of the hour anyway?”

“He was still asleep when I got up.”

“Weird.”

Dick shrugged. “He normally goes back to bed after prayers. He'll be along any minute, I'm sure.”

Jason swallowed a massive mouthful of pancake. “You know what Bruce said to me last night?”

“Do I _want_ to know?”

“Bet you do.”

“Fine. Lay it on me.”

“He said he'd been going too easy on me lately,” Jason said, grabbing the maple syrup. “Apparently you were mad he was being harder on Tiger about killing than he was on me?”

“Be honest, Jay, you've been trying to get a rise out of him this whole time.”

“True.” Jason poured a generous amount of syrup onto his pancakes. “I'm amazed it took him this long.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “You're an ass.”

“You're just learning this _now_?” Jason set the syrup aside. “I was gonna say something, but Bruce beat me to it. It was pretty unfair, since he knows I'm still killing people. Tiger's an unknown.” He took a sip of orange juice. “Then again, Bruce hates unknowns. You're lucky he still felt bad enough about leaving you hanging to let you bring him in the house.” He started down at his cup, a rueful kind of smile curling across his mouth. “Hell, he might've let you bring him anyway. He always lets you get away with shit.”

Dick snorted with a mouth full of fruit. He swallowed. “He really doesn't.”

“He really does.”

“You should've heard the message he left when he got his memories back and found out I hadn't stayed in Spyral like he wanted.”

“I heard it.” Jason dug back into his pancakes. “He would've kicked my ass. You got away with a slap on the wrist.”

“Bite me, Jason.”

“No way. I know where you've been.”

Dick rolled his eyes, pouring himself a cup of tea. The sheer domesticity of sitting at the breakfast table with Jason was something he would never get used to.

He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye, just as Tiger stepped through the doorway. Dick squeezed the hand that fell on his shoulder. There had been more nightmares last night, leaving Tiger's face with that distinct hollow look of exhaustion. Dick lifted Tiger's hand, kissing each knuckle.

“Catch a few more hours' sleep?”

Tiger nodded, dragging out a chair and sitting without pulling his hand away from Dick's.

“You two disgust me,” said Jason.

“We know,” Tiger replied.

“You tell us every day,” Dick added.

“And now you're finishing each other's sentences. Great.”

Tim chose that moment to hobble into the room. “Technically—”

“Shut up, replacement.”

Tim fell into the nearest chair. “You got out of last night with a few cuts and bruises. Don't give me attitude.”

“Drink your coffee. You get snappy when you're—”

Tim paused in the motion of reaching for the coffee jug. “Do you _want_ hot coffee in your face?”

“It's not the worst thing I've had in my face.” Jason shoved one last mouthful of pancakes in his mouth. “Get it? Because, you know, the crowbar...”

“We got it, Jason,” said Dick.

“We just didn't think it was funny,” Tim added, spooning oatmeal into a bowl. “Hey, Dick. Tiger. Barbara and I are still tracking Spyral's patrol patterns.”

“Anything interesting?” Dick asked.

Tim took a massive mouthful of coffee before responding. “A few agents are still in the city, but the number keeps dropping. You said there was infighting, Tiger?”

Tiger nodded. “Checkmate's attack shook many agents' confidence in Helena Bertinelli's ability to lead. She still has the headquarters and the academy, but a number of their other facilities have been taken by Spyral splinter groups.”

“Best we can tell, Helena is the lesser of several evils,” Dick added, “but the whole organisation was built to cause conflict in the first place. Helena's trying to turn it to better purposes, but...”

“It is difficult to change a group's behaviour when there is such resistance,” Tiger finished for him.

Jason elbowed Tim. “ _See_?”

Tim ignored him. “If the infighting gets messy, it could affect more than just the organisation.”

“That's exactly what we're afraid of,” Dick replied.

“And why we left,” Tiger added.

“Stop it,” Jason muttered.

“We weren't making much headway from the inside,” Dick continued, “and Helena was completely against destroying Spyral entirely.” Tiger, despite his previous Checkmate leanings, had been willing to work with Helena's plans until Dick had somehow convinced him otherwise. Dick still wasn't sure how he'd managed to do that.

“Some of the spies within the city may belong to Checkmate,” Tiger said. “Dick did stop them from killing Helena.”

Dick decided not to tell them Tiger had been their attack dog for that particular part of their plans. As soon as Dick had won, he'd backed off anyway. They didn't like talking about it; Tiger wasn't exactly proud of himself for that. Dick didn't see the point in bringing it up when he'd essentially sworn off killing after that point.

Honestly, they were probably here for Tiger as much as they were for Dick. Spy organisations generally didn't like it when their agents left, especially if they appeared to have switched loyalties to the other side like Tiger had.

“We'll look into it,” Tim said.

Tiger lapsed into silence, frowning as he ate. Dick knocked their knees together. He could be thinking about any number of things, from almost killing Helena to the consequences of turning his back on Checkmate to wondering which organisation had tortured him given he had given both of them plenty of reason. Or all of that at once, which seemed likely.

Tiger went off to train alone after breakfast. Dick let him have some time to get his thoughts in order.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Tiger, in separate points of time, have a lot on their minds and try to distract each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm on a roll. Anyway, this chapter has sexytimes and some discussion of torture.

_**Now** _

Tiger was in the kind of mood that made thinking almost impossible without the aid of physical exertion. Fighting a punching bag worked just fine.

Dick hadn't told his family about Tiger's involvement with Checkmate. Tiger wasn't exactly keen for them to know, but if it became relevant...

Tiger's days here could possibly be numbered. It was not a pleasant thought, no matter how much he couldn't stand Bruce Wayne as a person.

Tiger's knuckles already ached, even wrapped up and protected by gloves as they were. He hadn't wanted to think much about who could be responsible for torturing him. Rogue Spyral faction or Checkmate... did it really matter? Lingering on it only served to pull him back there. He didn't want to go back there. Talking to Dick about it was hard enough.

Thinking about it put him on edge, to the point he almost jumped when he heard footsteps. He forced himself to turn around slowly.

Bruce. Just what he needed.

The man reached for the leftover bandages, slowly wrapping them around his hands and knuckles and fingers. “You seem agitated.”

Tiger didn't know how to respond, so he didn't.

Bruce kept wrapping. “I have yet to see you fight. Dick speaks highly of your skills.”

Tiger narrowed his eyes. It seemed easier than running the risk of sounding like a fool, even if he was surprised Bruce was effectively giving him a compliment, filtered as it was through Dick.

Bruce chuckled. _Chuckled_. “Alfred told me you were quiet.”

“Words are not always necessary,” Tiger finally said.

Bruce's face was still softened from the laugh, almost smiling. “Dick used to hate it when I wouldn't speak much to him.”

“He speaks enough for all of us.”

Bruce secured the bandages. “That he does.”

This was the most civil conversation they'd ever had. Tiger was just waiting for something to happen, for one of them to piss off the other.

“How's your leg?” Bruce asked.

“Fine...”

“Dick is insisting we train together,” Bruce explained. “And by _train_ , he did not mean allowing me to hammer you to within an inch of your life on exercise equipment.”

“You want to spar?” Because that wasn't terrifying at all.

“If you are willing,” Bruce replied. “I would understand if you'd rather keep regaining your strength.”

Tiger could feel Dick's hand in Bruce's efforts to remain civil, in the understanding tone he took regarding Tiger's recovery.

“I'm willing,” Tiger said, pulling off the gloves. After all the times he'd been told he moved like Batman, he couldn't help but be the slightest bit curious.

It wasn't much of a fight; the two of them spent more time feeling out each other's abilities than really going for it. Bruce was a tank of a man, but more agile than he looked. Tiger could relate. Neither of them were as fast as Dick, who was built more for speed, but they didn't need to be.

Tiger blocked the first few hits without difficulty, even when Bruce started putting more force into it. His leg caused problems as the fight wore on and he started getting tired. Bruce had to have seen several openings by now, but he didn't take them. Nice of him.

Bruce waited until Tiger was tired enough to make mistakes that didn't involve his leg, which was already shaking from strain, before he took Tiger down and ended the fight. Tiger hit the ground hard on his ass, which was about as humiliating as possible, but he wasn't all that bothered, surprisingly.

Bruce sat on the floor with him. “You will be a force to reckon with once you have recovered.”

“Thank you,” Tiger replied. “You are quite the force now.”

Bruce chuckled. It was still a weird sound. This whole situation was weird.

“I don't trust easily,” Bruce said after a while. “It's not personal. But the rest of the family has taken a shine to you.”

“Don't ask why,” Tiger replied. “I don't know.”

“Damian relates to you. Jason apparently thinks you're hilarious. The others... well, my children are a mystery to me at the best of times.”

“Am I a mystery?” Dick had found them, assuming he hadn't already known where they were.

“The biggest mystery of them all,” Bruce replied.

“Aw, that's sweet.”

“I wasn't trying to be.”

Dick snorted. “Typical. Are you done beating each other up?”

“For the moment,” Bruce replied, getting up. He offered a hand to Tiger, who took it. “Good fight, Tiger.”

“You too,” Tiger replied.

Bruce slipped past Dick, who poked him as he went.

Dick grabbed Tiger's hands, kissing his fingers. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Tiger replied. “I had a lot on my mind.”

“I know. You were quiet earlier.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.” Dick stepped backwards, towards the door, pulling Tiger along with him. “Now you're all sweaty. Care to join me in the shower?”

“I suppose I can fit you into my busy schedule.”

Dick laughed. The sound eased the few lingering troubles in Tiger's mind.

* * *

_**A Month Ago (or thereabouts)** _

Dick and Tiger moved to another safehouse as soon as Tiger was reasonably stable. The problem with Tiger stabilising, of course, was that Dick no longer had an excuse to put off visiting the family by himself to explain the situation. It wasn't the kind of thing he could do over the comm link.

Alfred met him at a cafe several blocks from the safehouse and drove him to the manor. Dick kept Tiger's last kiss in his mind—something pleasant to help him cope with the sense of impending doom that gripped him as soon as the massive gates came into view.

“I can't stay long,” Dick told Alfred as they rolled through the gates.

“I suspected as much,” Alfred replied. “I will make sure Master Bruce does not keep you for any longer than necessary.”

They stepped out of the car, climbing the front steps. Alfred opened the door for Dick and directed him to the batcave, where Bruce was waiting.

Dick watched him working at the batcomputer for a while before he closed the distance. “Hey.”

“Report.” Whatever Bruce was doing apparently wasn't going right, or he was simply engrossed in it. Either was possible. It was hard to tell his focus from his frustration at times.

“You already know the basics,” Dick said. “I left Spyral with the former Agent 1. He goes by Tiger. We hopped between safehouses and now I'm here.”

“Tell me about... Tiger, was it?” Bruce knew exactly what Dick had said.

“Formerly Spyral's top agent,” Dick said, with little inflection, just wanting to get this over with. “I was partnered with him after his previous partner supposedly died and mine—Helena Bertinelli, the Matron—got promoted after the whole Minos ordeal. He helped me take down various Spyral targets when I told him what was really going on. Helena offered both of us positions within the organisation again after the whole Daedalus thing and Spyral began to splinter into smaller fractions. We declined and have been on the run ever since.”

Bruce closed the files he had been working on, looking up at Dick. “And who is he to you?”

“You already know,” Dick said, because there was no way Bruce would ask that unless he had a damn good idea in the first place. He didn't have the patience for mind games today.

“I want to hear it from you.” Bruce's hand, formerly on the mouse, was closed into a fist.

“I'm not playing this game,” Dick replied. His patience was already severely limited today. All those ugly thoughts that had been swirling in his mind since he and Tiger left Spyral—all those feelings of resentment he'd managed to keep under lock and key until he was finally out—were bubbling dangerously close to the surface. If either he or Bruce breathed the wrong way, they would come spilling out.

“I had hoped I had misinterpreted your relationship with this man,” Bruce said.

“You didn't.”

“Dick...”

“Don't start with me,” Dick replied. “There are so many things I could say right now. So many things I could never take back. You left me in hostile territory without a backup plan. You have absolutely no leg to stand on in this conversation.”

“I had expected you to carry on as normal, not sleep with the enemy.”

Dick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm not going to respond to that because, if I do, we'll probably end up punching each other and I don't feel like doing that today.”

“Speak your mind,” Bruce said.

“You really don't want me to do that.” Dick was a step away from physically biting his own tongue. This was the first time he'd seen Bruce as _himself_ since going undercover. He didn't want to turn it into a fight.

“You're angry.”

“No shit.” Dick clenched his jaw shut, jamming his fingers right into his temples. “Tiger and I... it's not going away. I've come here to do what I planned to do. I'm going to say hi to everyone else here, and then I'm going to leave. I think... we shouldn't speak again today.”

A muscle twitched in Bruce's jaw. He nodded. Dick got out of there before he gave into the urge to hit him. He needed to check in with the others and find a way to calm down. He couldn't bring this ugliness back to Tiger.

He wasn't exactly successful in that regard.

“You're upset,” Tiger observed the instant Dick stepped into the safehouse.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Dick set a bunch of canvas bags on the kitchen table. Alfred had prepared several meals to go into the freezer, and provided fresh ingredients that would last a few days. He'd also made a batch of cookies. Looking at them made Dick feel better.

Tiger was still injured, but moving a little better these days. He kissed Dick's shoulder.

“Your father?”

Dick nodded, shoving Alfred's premade meals into the freezer. “It could've been worse.” It was going to get worse. Dick had shut down the conversation today, but Bruce was the most stubborn man he'd ever known.

Tiger packed away the fresh ingredients, leaving the cookies on the table. He shoved one into Dick's hand.

Dick managed a smile. “Chocolate fixes everything.”

Tiger chuckled, grabbing one for himself. “We should have tried them earlier. For my leg.”

“Damn.” Dick swallowed a mouthful. “I can't believe I didn't think of that.”

They finished their cookies and put the rest away. Tiger grabbed Dick's hand.

“Come,” he said. “Let me distract you.”

* * *

_**Now** _

Tiger had never been one for long showers. That is, until Dick started joining him.

“Your family will know what we're doing in here,” Tiger pointed out as Dick stripped off in front of him.

“They already know we're having sex,” Dick replied, kicking off his pants. “They'll just be grateful they can't hear us this time.”

“Wait. They—”

“Yep.” Dick pulled Tiger's shirt over his head. “Haven't you noticed I've been quieter lately?”

“Why did you not _tell me_?”

Dick shrugged. “Slipped my mind. Get in the shower.”

Tiger shoved him in first. “Is the water hot?”

“Luckily for you, yes.” Dick dragged him inside, sliding the door shut after him. “So, you had a civil conversation with the big guy?”

“We are naked and in the shower together,” Tiger replied. “I don't want to talk about your father.”

“Peace and harmony turns me on.”

“I believe you.” If there was anyone out there who could get a boner from people being nice to each other, it was Dick Grayson.

Fortunately, Dick dropped the subject in favour of memorising the planes of Tiger's chest with his lips. And tongue, especially on the nipples. Tiger leaned back against the shower wall, pressing his nails into Dick's scalp. He was still full of adrenaline from the fight, his blood already pumping and ready to respond to Dick's attentions.

“Please tell me you don't plan to do this forever,” Tiger breathed as Dick pressed against him, biting his collarbone.

Dick kneaded his fingers into Tiger's ass, grinning up at him. “Such urgency.”

“Do not make me beg.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Dick kissed the spot he'd bitten, reaching for the shelf where he kept a bottle of lube. “This'll be entertaining.”

There was no way Tiger was strong enough to hold Dick up for this, but he wanted to see his face today. Dick caught on without Tiger having to explain, hoisting Tiger up until he could rest his legs around Dick's waist.

“Can you hold me there?” Tiger asked.

Dick smirked. “Buddy, you're nowhere near the heaviest person I've carried.”

Such a basic show of strength, and it had Tiger's blood flowing south even faster. Honestly. Dick set him down, hoisting Tiger's weaker leg around his waist, and pressed slick fingers right where Tiger needed them. His good leg nearly buckled. Just as well they wouldn't be using this position for the main event.

Tiger actually sighed at the sensation. Dick kissed him in response, which made him feel a little less embarrassed about it. Their cocks slid together; good to know Tiger wasn't the only one who had been turned on almost instantaneously. He wasn't sure where to move his hips: back into Dick's fingers or forward against his cock?

Dick solved the dilemma, thrusting his own hips forward as he pressed his fingers deeper inside, leaving Tiger trapped in the middle and gasping for breath in the thick, steamy air.

Dick's breath tickled his ear. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“Fuck.” Tiger was not mentally prepared for Dick's ever-present chattiness to get involved; he was barely dealing with the situation as it was.

Dick giggled in his ear. “Is that your answer?”

“Just fuck me already.”

“Is _that_ your answer?”

“ _Yes_.”

Dick added another finger and Tiger nearly lost it then and there. It took all his considerable training to find some control, to keep it from ending just yet. Dick shoved his tongue in his mouth and it was just what he needed. Dick was good at giving him everything he needed at the perfect moment. Now was no exception.

“I love you,” Dick murmured against his lips, and Tiger needed that, too.

“I love you,” Tiger said right back, because he knew Dick couldn't hear it enough. The man thrived on affection. Tiger sometimes worried he couldn't give enough, that Dick was condemning himself to a state of permanent starvation by continuing this relationship. It just didn't come easily to him. Dick had always been so incredibly understanding about it.

Dick nipped his bottom lip. “How are we feeling? Ready?”

“I was ready five minutes ago.”

Dick snorted. “If you say so.” He hoisted Tiger up with a grunt. It took some manoeuvring to get him in position—they generally preferred the bed and weren't quite so well-versed in these kinds of positions—but soon enough Tiger was sliding onto his cock, wrapping his legs firmly around the man's waist.

Dick gave a few shallow, careful thrusts. “How's that?”

“Perfect. Get on with it.” There were handles in the shower, likely to help injured vigilantes get in and out of the shower when they were too stubborn for a bath. Tiger grabbed onto those now, giving the both of them greater purchase to work with.

Tiger liked his angle; it was easy to appreciate Dick's form. The muscles in his arms were sculpted like a piece of art... what little of his back muscles Tiger could see defined like marble... the fact they were all working to support the two of them making them stand out all the more...

Tiger had to stop looking before he came already. Dick laughed, a little breathless, moving his hips just a touch faster.

“We should do this more often,” he said.

A particularly expert thrust had Tiger squeezing his legs even tighter around Dick's waist. “I... _ngh_... don't know if I can handle that.”

“I guess we'll have to practice.”

Any effort Tiger might've put in to avoid laughing just wasn't going to happen, so it came out in a breathless huff. Dick beamed, and snapped his hips deeper. Tiger nearly let go of the handles.

“I love this,” Dick said. “I love you.”

“If you have enough breath to speak, you are not trying hard enough.”

Dick bit his shoulder. “Shh. I'm working.”

Tiger couldn't think up a response, because Dick chose that moment to drill right into him, breathtakingly fast and yet hitting that perfect spot again and against with practiced precision that had him falling over the edge in seconds, yelling out Dick's name.

Dick followed, too out of breath to even do that much.

They shook together in the aftermath, until Dick finally had to let Tiger down. Tiger's legs were trembling, so he sat on the shower floor. Dick fell into his lap.

“This is nice,” Dick said once he could breathe again.

“Heh. Nice.”

* * *

_**A Month Ago (or thereabouts)** _

“Are you ready to talk about what happened?” Tiger asked as they lay together in bed, hearts still beating at a million miles an hour.

Dick grumbled under his breath, hiding his face in Tiger's chest. “Bruce figured us out.”

“Obviously.”

“And tried to make me confess. I wasn't in the mood for mind games. Anyway, he disapproves.”

“Understandable. I am a big scary spy.”

“You _think_ you're a big scary spy.” Dick flopped onto his back, glaring up at the ceiling. “I get he wants to protect me or whatever, but I'm not in the goddamn mood. He left me stranded in Spyral. Do I get an apology? No. He chastises me for not carrying on as if nothing happened, and for 'sleeping with the enemy.' I'm just... I'm done. If it weren't for the rest of the family...”

“Did you tell him you felt that way?”

“Enough that he got the gist if he was paying the slightest bit of attention. If I'd said any more, I probably would've punched him. Speaking from experience, he punches back. And that's the last thing any of us needed.”

Tiger reached out, slow enough to let Dick stop him if needed, and stroked his cheek. “If nothing else, you deserve an apology.”

“I'll be lucky if I ever get one. I stick my neck out for him day after day, mission after fucking mission... he's like this with everyone. I think he forgets people have feelings sometimes.” Dick sighed, and amended his statement. “That wasn't fair of me. It's more like... he forgets not everyone can just set their feelings aside, especially when they're upset. The man plans for everything. It just—it hurts that he didn't even think I might need a backup plan if something goes so wrong that I can't get in touch with him.”

Tiger slid closer, pressing his lips to Dick's forehead. “Maybe he will realise why you are upset and apologise next time.”

Dick snorted. “As if.”

“I could make him apologise.”

“Please don't.”

“Okay.” Tiger held him instead, letting him vent until he'd tired himself out and went to sleep.

* * *

_**Now** _

They lay in bed after the shower, huddled together under the covers. Dick kept kissing Tiger's skin, currently working his way along one of his ribs.

“Why did you trust me so easily?” Tiger asked.

Dick glanced up. “Mm?”

“After the Checkmate attack. And Doctor Daedalus. You took me back without question.”

Dick shrugged. “You'd already showed your hand. It'd take a shitty spy to just expect everyone to trust you after you'd told everyone you were a double agent. Besides, I was a double agent, too.”

“I would have killed Helena, had I the chance.”

“Not because you wanted her dead,” Dick replied, pressing his lips to the point of connection between the rib and Tiger's sternum. “You were trying to save the world. I don't agree with that particular method, so I stopped you. And you learned your lesson when I managed to stop Daedalus without killing Helena.”

“I still lied to you about Checkmate.”

“Yeah, but as soon as Spyral stopped being a threat to global stability, you changed your tune. In your situation, I'd pick Helena's Spyral over whoever-the-hell's Checkmate any day. Who even knows if Maxwell Lord is really the boss there? The devil you know and all that.”

Tiger really didn't know what to say to that. His first instinct was to chastise Dick for being so trusting, but the last thing he wanted to do was start a fight.

“You're a... good person,” he said instead.

“It takes practice,” Dick replied.

“I doubt it.”

“You're a good person, too,” Dick told him. “I know you don't feel that way a lot of the time, but...”

“Dick. Please.” Tiger wasn't a good person; he never would be. That was a decision that had been made a long time ago. Lingering on it only made him wish the past could be changed. It couldn't, so there was no point.

Dick propped himself up on one elbow beside him, his free hand drawing lazy patterns on Tiger's chest. “You try. Some people don't even do that.”

Tiger gave up, and changed the subject to something else that was bothering him. “I am beginning to wonder if Spyral splinter factions are after us at all. All of it could have been Checkmate. Even...” The torture.

Dick nodded in understanding. “It's possible. I'm kinda hoping for Spyral, to be honest.”

“Me too.” Spyral, weakened and fractured as it was, would be an easier fight. Tiger was... not keen to go up against Checkmate. Too many resources, too much behind-the-scenes government support.

“Does Checkmate...” Dick trailed off, frowning.

“Yes?”

“I don't want to bring it up.”

Tiger caught his meaning. “You mean to ask if Checkmate tortures people?” He snorted. “Of course they do. They are a spy organisation. The ends justify the means.”

Dick flattened his palm on Tiger's sternum. “Sorry. I didn't mean to—”

“I'm fine.” The fact he was worried at all was both heart-warming and a little irritating. “The dreams will come regardless. It doesn't matter.” He could feel Dick waiting for him to continue, so he did, because he'd promised to be more open about it. “Most organisation use similar tactics. I am trained to withstand them, but... well. Everyone breaks eventually. You arrived before they found my breaking point.”

Dick pressed his hand down gently, just enough to keep Tiger grounded. “I sense another _but_.”

“It would not have taken long. Even if I could not give them information about you, I knew other confidential information belonging to both organisations.” Breathing was getting a little difficult. Dick moved his hand away, squeezing his arm instead.

“It's all right,” he soothed. “You don't have to continue.”

Tiger nodded. “Should we tell your family? About my involvement with Checkmate?”

“No,” Dick said firmly. “I'm totally happy keeping that one under wraps unless it suddenly becomes necessary knowledge.”

Tiger was grateful for that, even if he'd feel like a bad person if he said it out loud.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked him.

Tiger answered honestly this time. “I think so. Maybe.”

He could be okay, with Dick and his boundless capacity for patience and love by his side. What did he do to deserve this man?

Dick, as if he could read Tiger's mind, dropped soft little kisses along his cheekbone. They had no real obligations to do anything today, and both of them were content to lie here a while longer.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor forces secrets out into the open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That summary was a nightmare to write. I don't know why. I probably should've just written "Dick is a fucking saint" because that's as good a summary as anything.
> 
> Allusions to sex and the torture.

_**Now** _

Tiger's strength was returning. The dreams came and went, but there was something about being physically stronger that made them easier to deal with. He beat Dick in an arm-wrestling match, but then Jason stepped up and wiped the floor with him. So he still had a way to go, or so he thought to make himself feel better.

“Don't feel bad,” Jason said, brushing his nails against his own shirt. “I am pretty amazing.”

It was a full house today, and Dick and Jason's other siblings all snickered at his remarks.

“If you are the standard for amazing, Todd...”

“Shut up, brat.”

“No, no,” Dick said. “Let Damian speak. I like where this is going.”

“You're meant to be setting an example,” Jason replied.

“No one ever said it had to be a good one.”

Tiger was strongly tempted to bury his face in his palm. Whether it was Dick's influence that had made this family ridiculous, or whether the family had turned him ridiculous... well, it didn't matter. They were all ridiculous.

“Hey, Replacement,” Jason said. “It's your turn. I softened him up for you.”

Tim scoffed. “I'd rather keep my arms, thanks.”

“Coward,” Damian muttered and stormed over to Tiger, who looked to Dick for help. Dick just laughed. Not knowing what else to do, Tiger accepted the hand Damian thrust in his direction. Damian pushed against him, but Tiger still hadn't decided whether he wanted to let him win, so he just held his arm steady while Damian pushed and pushed, his face growing redder and redder as time wore on.

“Hey, you're doing better than I did,” Dick said. “Oh, hey, Bruce.”

Tiger glanced over long enough to watch Bruce jerk his head towards the door. Dick followed him out.

Damian put his whole body weight into shoving Tiger's arm, roaring as he went. Tiger just stayed still. He'd already started on this path; he may as well finish it out.

“This could go on for hours,” Jason said, throwing himself onto the nearest couch. “Who's gonna get me popcorn?”

“No one,” Cassandra replied, sitting on his legs.

Damian gritted his teeth, pushing harder. “Shut. Up.”

“You know he's not gonna give up, Tiger,” said Tim.

“I am beginning to suspect as much, yes.” Tiger didn't have a whole lot of experience with children. He imagined the reason he got along with Damian at all was because he was fairly unusual as far as children went. So he wasn't sure if this stubborn determination to beat him in an obviously mismatched arena was a children thing or a Damian thing. It could be both, he supposed.

“Kick his ass, kid,” said Stephanie, which earned her a glare from the kid in question. Only Dick was allowed to call him that, apparently.

The contest only ended when Dick returned and pushed Tiger's hand over, effectively winning Damian the match. “We need to talk,” he told Tiger and tore out of the room again. Tiger followed, leaving Damian and the others to celebrate Damian's totally fair and not at all rigged victory.

* * *

_**Months Ago** _

“I've made up my mind. I'm not staying.” Dick was packing the few possessions he'd left behind at St Hadrian's into a backpack.

“And here I thought you were simply packing for fun,” Tiger replied. “Helena is serious. We are welcome here.”

“ _Yeah_ , forgive me if I'm hesitant to stay in an organisation that was literally built to create chaos in the world.” Dick jammed some kind of electronic thing into the bottom of his bag and rounded on Tiger. “How are you even considering this... _Checkmate_?”

“You know I am sorry for the deceit,” Tiger said evenly; it was still a sore spot for Dick. A strange one, granted they were effectively on the same side, but sore all the same.

“I wasn't fishing for an apology. I wanted an answer.”

Tiger sighed; Dick had been a little short with him ever since the fight ended. It was understandable, of course, but enough out of character that Tiger felt like he had been cast adrift in a fast-moving river headed for a waterfall. He knew how to handle Dick when he was cracking silly jokes, not when his words were sharpened into weapons.

“Checkmate was right about the need to stop Daedalus,” Tiger said. “You, however, managed to neutralise the threat without killing anyone, which Checkmate had not considered possible. And perhaps Helena's ideas for developing Spyral beyond its original purpose sound more appealing than remaining with Checkmate.”

“You're really a terrible double agent,” Dick said, but some of the sharpness in his voice had softened out.

“I tire of being one.”

“And what do you get out of switching sides to Spyral?”

“Helena's promotion to director did vacate a position,” Tiger said. “She would like me to fill it.”

Dick smirked, just a little. “You don't look like a Matron.”

Tiger rolled his eyes; of course Dick took this opportunity to be ridiculous. “I would be Patron, Dick.”

“Aw. Just when I was warming to the idea.”

“You were not.”

“True. I still think sticking with Spyral is almost as bad as sticking with Checkmate.” Dick sat on his bed, zipping up the bag. “I'm leaving, Tiger. I'd rather you come with me.”

“Back to Gotham.”

Dick shrugged. “Helena's little trick with Daedalus's identity-erasing technology mightn't have done much to stop every spy agency in the world knowing who I am—probably because they knew already—but at least the general public doesn't know me anymore. Come on, think about it. You'd look great in spandex.”

“No spandex.”

“But you will come with me?”

“I am considering it.”

“Don't get me wrong,” Dick said. “I like Helena. I'm just not a fan of Spyral, and I think changing its direction is going to cause more problems than simply dissolving it would.”

“And you miss your family.”

“Obviously.”

Tiger joined Dick on the bed. “I will speak to Helena. Even if we do leave, staying on good terms could benefit us.”

“As long as we're not broadcasting our every move to Spyral. I might trust Helena—barely—but I sure as hell don't trust anyone else.”

Tiger reached for his hand. Dick laced their fingers together. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind. It seemed incredible they had been literally fighting each other only a few days ago. The fact Dick was speaking to him at all was a miracle, really. It was strange. They were both double agents. But, Tiger supposed, Dick's mission hadn't involved the possibility of murder. So he could forgive a little anger on Dick's part.

Somehow, they were still together. Tiger wasn't about to let that change.

* * *

_**Now** _

Dick couldn't find it in himself to be calm right now. He couldn't barely keep the words pushed down his throat until he and Tiger had some privacy.

Tiger barely waited for their bedroom door to close before he asked, “What has happened?”

“Helena's in Gotham.” Dick had thought finally saying it would make him feel better, but it only served to heighten his anxiety. Tiger squeezed his hand.

“Do we know what she wants?”

“Not yet.” Dick didn't want to think she was the one responsible for the agents tailing them, but anything was possible and he couldn't afford to let friendship get in the way. Bruce had been concerned enough to tell him the instant he found out himself.

“We need to speak with her,” Tiger said. Dick had expected him to say that.

“She has to know where we are by now.” It wasn't a comforting thought. If Agent Zero could barge right into Wayne Manor because she felt like threatening Dick, Helena was likely capable of the same thing.

He sat heavily on the bed; this was giving him a headache. Tiger knelt behind him, pressing circles into Dick's temples for him.

“Do you think she's behind the people following us?” Dick asked. He honestly didn't know the answer to that. Tiger had known Helena longer than he had; maybe he had some insight of his own.

“I doubt it,” Tiger replied. “If it is Spyral, it is likely a faction she does not control.”

“I hope so.”

Tiger kissed the top of his head. “We will find out soon enough.”

“I don't want it to be her,” Dick admitted, closing his eyes. He leaned into Tiger's touch.

“There is no point worrying,” Tiger said. “Whatever happens is not in our control.”

“That's not comforting, T.”

“Oh, are you after _comfort_?” Tiger slid his fingers along Dick's neck, across his shoulders, down his arms. “I can arrange that.”

Dick snorted, grabbing his hands before they travelled any further. “You and your sex drive.”

“You are no better.”

Tiger nipped the tip of his ear. “And?”

Dick grinned up at him, already feeling a little better. “Maybe later, when everyone's gone out for patrol. We need to let Damian gloat properly about his victory, you know.”

“Why do I feel like I have suddenly acquired a child?”

Dick tried to lean back and kiss Tiger's cheek while he was laughing; it wasn't easy. “Remind me to get you a Father's Day card next time the holiday comes around.”

“No.”

They rejoined the rest of the family, where Bruce spent most of the day eyeing Tiger with suspicion. Just when Dick had thought they'd gotten over this. They tried to take their minds off it by coming up with plans when it came to finding Helena and talking to her. They needn't have bothered.

Not long before the family was scheduled to go on patrol, there was a knock on the front door. Dick and Tiger, who technically were not here, avoided the foyer while Alfred went to check who it was. He returned shortly afterwards.

“Helena Bertinelli, sirs,” he said. Bruce frowned. Dick and Tiger eyed each other.

“If she's here, she already knows where to find us,” Dick said. Tiger nodded in agreement.

“Fine,” said Bruce. “Take her to the guest sitting room on the ground floor.”

Dick knew where that was, so he brought Tiger there while Alfred went to greet their guest. Tiger paced the length of the room while Dick tentatively perched on the edge of an armchair.

“It'll be fine,” Dick said. “I don't think she'd show up to the front door like this if she wanted us dead.”

“Probably not,” Tiger agreed, but he kept pacing, chewing on his fingernail.

“You're making me dizzy, T. What's the matter?”

Tiger took a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to stop moving. “Dick.” He cleared his throat. He placed his hands on the back of a second armchair. “I have a confession to make.”

Dick smiled through the jolt of anxiety that fell through his body. “All right. What is it?”

“We've been in touch,” Helena said, stepping through the doorway.

Dick breathed in slowly, counting to five before he let himself say anything. “Okay. So. Define _been in touch_.”

“I kept her updated on our movements,” Tiger replied.

“I originally had people watching you,” Helena added. She looked as untouchable as ever, as if this room were her office and Dick the intruder.

“I requested she stopped, given your concerns about the loyalty of the remaining Spyral agents,” said Tiger. “In exchange, I agreed to provide updates at least once a week.”

“And you did this behind my back.” Dick was trying so, so hard to stay calm when all he wanted to to was kick something. Or _someone_.

“I did.”

“At my request,” Helena clarified.

“That doesn't make me feel better.”

“I have information,” Helena said. “About your tail.”

Dick didn't have it in him to beat around the bush. “And?”

“Well, it's not Checkmate.”

Tiger deflated beside her, ostensibly with relief. Dick didn't let himself relax. Once they had this information, he'd have to deal with this new layer of bullshit. Just when he'd thought he could trust Tiger again...

“So who is it?” he said before he could fall into any kind of Batman-esque brooding.

“A splinter faction of Spyral,” Helena said. “I'm working on uncovering whoever is at the centre. I investigated the place they took Tiger for his interrogation.” Tiger almost hid his wince. “But the survivors cleared out immediately upon his escape and erased their computer files. I'll keep digging.”

“When did you find the time to tell her about that?” Dick asked Tiger. “I barely left your side... you know, because you nearly _died_.”

“She found me before I reached you,” Tiger admitted, staring at a point on the wall past Dick's head.

“I had planned to get him medical attention, but he stubbornly insisted I bring him to you instead.”

“And you call me ridiculous,” said Dick. And all this time he'd actually been impressed by Tiger making it all the way to their backup safehouse with his injuries.

“I didn't know if I would find you again,” said Tiger. “I lost a lot of blood; I wasn't thinking clearly.”

“You're lucky you didn't die,” Dick snapped. Tiger had had an opportunity to get proper medical attention and he'd risked his life for _that_? Dick couldn't even bring himself to be touched because it was that _ridiculous_.

“I'm alive, am I not?”

“Despite your own best efforts.” Dick liked to think himself a patient man, but all this was a step too far, even for him.

“I'm taking care of your tail,” Helena said. “Leave it to me.”

“I'd rather not.” And now Bruce was here. Great.

“I'll pass on any information I find, but this is my organisation,” said Helena. “Therefore, it is my mess to clean up.”

If Bruce had been in the cowl, his glare could've singed the eyebrows off Killer Croc. Did Killer Croc even have eyebrows?

“I'll be the judge of that,” said Bruce. “If there's nothing else, you should leave.” Helena barely paused to say goodbye before she vacated the premises. Bruce turned to Dick and Tiger. “Dick, Tim and Damian are at it again. Talk them out of killing each other, if you can. Tiger, a word.”

Dick didn't have the patience to deal with the impending doom of Tim and Damian's latest spat, _and_ question Bruce on what he wanted with Tiger. One crisis at a time.

* * *

_**Months Ago** _

“We're being followed.” Tiger's hands were tight on the wheel, his brows creased with worry.

Dick watched the car in the rearview mirror. “Jeez, they're not even trying to be subtle.”

“We have to lose them.” Tiger jerked the car down a side street, then another. “Keep an eye out.”

Dick's heart was in his throat. He swallowed. The car kept following them through the twists and turns. It didn't help they were in an unfamiliar city.

“They look kinda familiar,” Dick said, picking out what features he could of the people inside the car. “Spyral or Checkmate?”

“Does it matter?” Tiger growled, jerking the car into traffic.

“If we crash, so help me...”

“We will not crash.” Tiger's voice was strained, which didn't help.

They weaved in and out of traffic and Dick fully expected the police to come after them at any moment. They weren't in a superhero vehicle; they were in a shitty sedan at least twenty years past its prime. How was this thing even _running_?

“We need a new car,” Tiger said.

“I'll just conjure one up for us. Let me find my magic wand.”

“That is not helping.” Tiger pulled the car into a parking lot. “Get our bags.”

Dick grabbed them from the backseat. “Are we gonna hide in a shopping mall?”

“Yes.”

“I can work with that.”

“Get ready to run.” Tiger pulled the car into a parking space as close to the mall as he could manage. They leapt out of the car and raced across the tarmac. The car following them was just pulling into the carpark.

Tiger nearly smashed his face on the automatic doors, but they made it inside without any further incidents.

“The bathrooms are this way.” Tiger pointed. “You should lead. You'll attract less attention.”

Dick grabbed his hand, dragging him to where the sign directed, dodging strollers and families with small children. “I take it there's a reason we're going this way?”

“Disguises. They aren't much, but they may throw our pursuers off the trail enough to get us out of here.”

They hurried into the men's bathroom. Dick dug through their bags, finding a pair of reasonably realistic wigs. Tiger dug out some powder, rubbing it into his arms and face.

“I will look ridiculous in a blonde wig,” he pointed out. “Put yours on, then help me.”

Dick got his wig on and pulled another on Tiger's head. “This isn't going to fool anyone close up.”

“Then we do not let them get close.” Tiger zipped up their bags. “Come on.”

They stuck to the crowded areas of the mall, including the food courts and a Hot Topic for some reason. Dick felt about twice his age in there, surrounded by teenagers with terrifying dye jobs and way too many piercings.

They picked up a few supplies as they mingled in the crowd, including some extra medications and bandages, and had a quick lunch packed in a crowded corner.

A set of tourists, probably from interstate, provided a good cover to get the hell out of there. The bus was taking on new passengers so they paid a fare and hopped on.

“We can get off the next city over,” Dick suggested as they settled in their seats with the curtain drawn. Tiger took the window seat, given the powder really wasn't a great disguise close-up.

Tiger nodded. Beneath the makeup, he looked a little drained. He'd been driving for hours.

“We'll find somewhere to hole up tonight, hey?” said Dick. “You look like you could use a bed.”

“I'll be fine, whatever happens.”

Dick squeezed his hand. “Come on, humour me. Gotta be bright and fresh for the next leg of this horrifying journey.”

“ _Hn_. Fine.”

They had enough money to rent a room in a shitty hotel that night. The walls were paper thin, which Tiger in particular did not appreciate.

He sat on the bed, towelling his hair dry after a tepid shower, and grimaced at the sounds coming from the next room over. “This was a terrible idea.”

“Hey, a roof's a roof.”

“Next time, I would prefer to sleep in a condemned warehouse. Or anything. Just not _this_.”

“At least she's not getting murdered.” Dick tilted his head, listening. “I think. Hard to tell sometimes.”

Tiger smacked him with the towel. “You are not funny.”

“I was being entirely serious.” Well, not really. Maybe half-serious. Dick had to find humour in these kinds of situations, while they were sitting in a hotel frequented by ladies of the night and cheating spouses. There was no need to wonder what the walls would say if they could talk; they could already hear what was going on anyway.

Tiger got up to return the towel to the bathroom. “I hope you are not expecting sex tonight.”

“Aw, are you shy?”

“Will you shut up if I say yes?”

Dick pulled him back to the bed. “Relax. I'm not up for it either. Who knows when these sheets were last _washed_?”

“I do not want to think about that.” Tiger hesitated before he lay down on top of the covers. “We will find a new car tomorrow. Assuming we are not staying in luxury hotels every night—”

Dick snickered.

“—we should have enough money to last until we reach our destination.”

Dick lay down beside him. “We'll be okay.”

“Who are you trying to reassure?”

“Both of us.”

“It is not working.”

“Yeah, I figured. Sorry.” Dick shuffled closer to Tiger, latching onto his arm. “Try to sleep. We need the energy for whatever the hell's gonna hit us next.”

“I thought you were an optimist.”

“I'm a cheerful realist.”

“ _I_ am a realist. You are... I do not know. An abomination.”

“You're a little pessimistic for a realist. And you say the sweetest things.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“You first.”

Tiger groaned.

“Chill. I'm going.” Dick kissed his cheek. “You know, there isn't anyone I'd rather be on the run with.”

“I'm flattered. Stop talking.”

“Seriously, you're a great conversationalist. I don't know how I managed before I met you.”

“I have forgotten how it feels to not have a headache.”

“All right, I'll shut up. Sweet dreams.”

* * *

_**Now** _

It was a trivial matter to get Tim and Damian to put down the knives and talk civilly to each other. Just as well; Dick didn't have the capacity to mediate anything particularly complicated. Not right now. He didn't feel up to talking to the rest of the family, so he retreated to his room. The others had to know something was wrong, but at least they didn't pester him with questions.

Tiger joined him a while later; Dick had lost track of the time.

“You lied to me.”

“Yes.” Tiger lingered by the door, his fingers still resting on the handle.

“Again.”

“Yes.”

“Are you even going to _try_ to defend yourself?”

“No.”

“You could start with an explanation.”

“Would it make you feel better?”

The best Dick could do was reserve judgement at this point. “I'll answer after I hear it.”

Tiger let his arm drop away from the door. “She asked to stay in touch when I told her I was leaving with you.”

“And you agreed.” Dick remembered something Helena had said earlier. “And kept it from me at Helena's request.”

“Yes.”

“And you agreed because...”

“She warned me we may be followed,” Tiger said. “I agreed. I was not feeding her information for Spyral's benefit.”

“She was looking out for us.” Dick rubbed his face; of course it was too much to ask to have a few weeks of peace. Helena's appearance in Gotham was not a good omen. Shit was about to get serious.

“She saved my life.”

“After I failed to, yeah. My memory's not that bad. I still think you made a shit decision leaving me to patch you up.”

Tiger shrugged. “I said I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't want you to think I had died if I did not return to you.”

Dick refused to let any warm and fuzzy feelings take over. It had been an illogical decision that could have cost Tiger his life. Between hiding his communication with Helena and that little stunt, he wasn't particularly impressed.

“I am uncertain what has made you angrier,” said Tiger. “My correspondence with Helena or my decision to return to you for medical attention.”

“I honestly can't decide.” Dick was also struggling to hold onto any anger at all. He'd forgiven Tiger for lying to him about _Checkmate_ , for the love of...

“Do you need me to leave?” Tiger offered. “I can, if you—”

“No.” That was the last thing Dick needed. Or wanted. “Get over here.” He patted the bed. Tiger joined him, maintaining a few inches of respectful distance. Fuck that. Dick dragged him closer.

“Should I be afraid?”

Dick buried his face in Tiger's shoulder. “Very. Fear me.”

“I'll try.”

“I'm still angry.”

“I can see that.”

“Stop humouring me. I'm trying to hate you.”

“Are you succeeding?”

Dick sighed. “Not really.” He'd forgiven Tiger for doing far worse before. He wasn't happy about this, but he just couldn't be _angry_ about it. Not anymore.

“I am sorry.” Tiger kissed the top of his head. “I should have told you. Maybe you would not have been so stressed if you knew she had an eye on us.”

“It happened. Can't change it.” Dick was done with it now. He and Tiger had been through too much to hold a grudge. He wasn't about to lose the man after what they'd been through. “You better grovel every day of our lives from now on, though.”

“I will,” Tiger promised.

“Good.” Dick squeezed Tiger's arm. “Why do I have to love you?”

“Because I am irresistible?”

“Damn you and your sexiness.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Tiger's voice was light, about as close to joking as he got.

“Obviously. That and you keep me warm in the winter with that fur coat of yours.”

“I grow it out especially for that purpose.”

Dick laughed; he felt okay now. He grabbed Tiger's face and smashed their lips together, squishing their noses in his haste. They had their own version of 'kiss and make up', which, quite frankly, was better than the original.

The rest of the family would have to make do without them for a while longer.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce had spoken to Tiger about something. But what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than average, but it ended in the right spot, I think.

****_**Months Ago** _

Dick and Tiger had holed up in the foreman's office of an abandoned warehouse in the steel district of this city. There was already a mattress on the floor and the desk had been pushed to the wall by its prior tenant.

“I keep a few safehouses across the country,” Tiger said, dumping their bags by the bed. “No one knows about this one.”

Dick toed off his shoes. “Perfect.”

They'd had to run from another pursuer today. The encounters seemed to be happening more and more often. Dick had the distinct feeling of a noose tightening around his neck. They hadn't slept much the past few days, too preoccupied with travelling as far as possible. Tiger had finally thrown in the towel this morning and dumped their car. Dick had already made arrangements to grab a new one at the wreckers.

“I know another place we can go if need be,” Dick said. “Across town, near the wrecking yard.”

Tiger unwound his lungee and set it inside a bag. “Good.”

They undressed quietly, stepping into a small washroom. Mercifully, it still had running water so they could clean up after days on the road. Dick felt marginally more human when he was clean.

“We can purchase more supplies tomorrow,” Tiger said, running a washcloth under the tap.

“Staying in tonight?” Dick kissed Tiger's damp shoulder.

“Yes.” Tiger lifted Dick's chin, and they kissed properly. “I bought lubricant at our last stop.”

“So romantic.”

“There is no time for romance,” Tiger pointed out.

“True.” It was a testament to how little they'd been able to touch each other lately that even the thought of sex was enough to get Dick started.

Tiger dug his fingers into Dick's hips, pressing his lips to the man's throat. Dick melted against him, offering no resistance when Tiger pulled him against his chest. And other areas.

“Enough romance?” Tiger whispered against Dick's skin.

“Works for me.”

The mattress was firmer than Dick was used to, but that just meant more leverage. He'd become very adaptable since the first time they'd fucked. Tiger blanketed him with his own body, warm as always.

They started slow, arms and legs squeezing in close, rocking gently as the heat built. Dick stroked Tiger's hair.

“I've missed this,” he whispered. “Us.”

Tiger kissed his face. Dick took that as agreement. He hitched his legs higher up Tiger's waist, bettering the angle. Tiger wasn't hitting the right spot yet, probably on purpose. They had hours to kill. No need to rush. Dick was happy lying under Tiger for however long it took.

Tiger deepened his thrusts, taking advantage of Dick's adjustment. Dick felt Tiger's back muscles rippling under his hands. Sex with Tiger was a mess of feelings, from the physical to the emotional to the downright spiritual at times. Dick loved letting it all wash over him, overwhelm him. And if he could make Tiger feel a little of what the man made him feel, all the better.

It was hard to get much noise out of Tiger at first, always starting with half-aborted grunts and groans. Dick prided himself on getting him to open up. It got easier every time, even if Dick would always be the louder of the pair.

“You feel...” Tiger trailed off, biting his moan in half.

Dick laughed, which brought a whole new series of sensations that left the two of them breathless. “It's been a while, hey?”

“Mm.” Tiger hid his face for a moment, pressing their cheeks together.

“This is good lube. What brand was it?”

Tiger groaned in earnest, kissing Dick just to shut him up. Ever since he'd learned Dick would happily stop talking when he did that, he had been using it to get his way during all manner of both appropriate and inappropriate moments.

Maybe Dick even chattered incessantly at times just to make him do it.

Tiger finally hit the right spot, knocking a moan out of Dick. He smirked, way too proud of himself for picking the right moment.

Dick grinned back. “You gonna keep looking pleased with yourself or are you gonna fuck me properly?”

“And what do you call _properly_?”

“Well, I haven't screamed yet. Chop chop.”

“As you wish.”

It took Tiger eighty-two seconds to make Dick scream. Another thirty to make him come. Tiger needed another ten to join him.

They lay entwined together afterwards. “Please tell me you did not time us again.”

Dick snorted. “Sorry.”

“At least you did not use a stopwatch this time...”

“Hey, I'm just trying to spice things up.”

Tiger pinched his ass. “You are insufferable.”

“You still love me.”

“Yes. And you love me.”

“Yep. I feel sorry for you.”

Tiger rolled his eyes. “Don't. Despite your inability to shut up and your tendency to bring ridiculous practices into the bedroom, I do enjoy your company.”

“Aww. I enjoy your company, too.” Dick draped himself across Tiger's body—still hot like a furnace—and peppered kisses across his face until he got a laugh out of him.

Tiger's eyes were soft. “You should sleep.”

“Prayer time?”

Tiger kissed Dick's forehead. “I will return. Go to sleep.” He threw a blanket over Dick as he got out of bed. Dick shut his eyes dutifully, dimly aware of Tiger moving around the space.

He half-woke when Tiger returned to bed, and again when he got up in the morning.

“Shh,” Tiger whispered. A hand brushing through Dick's hair. “Go back to sleep. I will be back with supplies.”

Dick grumbled out some response even he wasn't able to translate. Tiger chuckled warmly and traced a finger down Dick's nose.

Then, he was gone.

* * *

_**Now** _

Tiger wasn't in bed when Dick woke in the morning. That wasn't so unusual, especially when he was feeling restless or the nightmares had been particularly brutal the previous night. The nightmares had been there, of course, but Dick hadn't thought them the worst of the bunch. Maybe he'd misjudged.

Tiger wasn't in the gym or the prayer room, nor was he in the dining room. Dick tried not to let it worry him. He'd keep looking after breakfast. He was alone at the table today. Had something happened on patrol?

“Everyone is fine,” Alfred assured him, pouring a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice for him.

“Thanks, Alfie.” On both accounts. Dick sipped his juice, tapping his fingernail against the glass as he pondered where exactly Tiger could be. If he was tired, he could have dozed off in one of the dozen or so sitting rooms. Or maybe he just wanted space to think. A house full of people could get too much for him sometimes.

The rest of the family gradually filed in for breakfast. Bruce didn't show.

“I think he and Jason had a fight or something,” Tim said, pouring his usual cup of coffee. “I don't know. Ask Jason.”

“Yeah, ask me.” Jason was the last of the family to show up. There was something in his expression Dick didn't like, something that made Dick abandon his breakfast to drag his brother out of the dining room.

“Is everything all right?” Dick asked him.

“Not really,” Jason admitted, pulling an envelope out of his pocket. “I guess he didn't tell you.”

“Who?”

“Bruce. Or Tiger.”

“Tiger?” Now Dick really was concerned.

Jason passed him the envelope. “You should hear it from him. Or read it, I guess. There was a...” He shook his head. “Just read the thing.”

The envelope had been tucked closed rather than sealed. Dick pulled a slip of paper out. He didn't often see Tiger's handwriting—the man could write in both perfect cursive and the most horrific chicken scratch Dick had ever seen—but he still recognised it on sight. The handwriting was rushed, closer to his chicken scratch reserved for unofficial messages, covered in crossings-out. Tiger typically rewrote letters to hide such errors, but not this one, apparently.

_Dick,_

_I am sorry you have to find out like this. Your father knows I communicated with Helena. If you are reading this, then he has ~~demanded~~ requested that I leave. I have entrusted this letter to Jason. He has promised to watch the situation in case I do not have the chance to say goodbye in person._

_I am returning to Spyral with Helena. Together, we will find out who followed us and who tortured me. If need be, I will ask for your assistance but I do not wish to bring you back unless it is absolutely necessary. While you made a ~~decent~~ good spy, I understand it is not your natural inclination and I do not wish to cause you further anguish._

_We will see each other again. I promise. I have no desire to remain separated from you any longer than necessary. Your father has your best interests at heart and I understand why he may wish me to leave. I hope the news is not too distressing._

~~_Regards_ ~~

_With love,_

_Tiger_

“God damn it,” Dick muttered. He folded the letter and put it away before he gave into the temptation to rip the thing.

“Yeah,” Jason said. There was a tightness in his jaw that betrayed how much the situation was affecting him personally. “Tiger caught me before I left for patrol and asked me to pass that on to you if he was forced to leave without saying goodbye. Want me to have a few words with Bruce?”

“That won't be necessary. I'll do it myself.”

“Hey, I can back you up if you want. I'm always happy to rip the big guy a new one.”

“You're bigger than him, Jason.”

“So?”

“Whatever. Beside the point.” Dick wasn't about to drag Bruce out of bed for this. He had a more... dignified response in mind. “We'll wait for him to get up. Then I'm having words with him. Come along if you want. I can't be bothered stopping you _and_ dealing with him at the same time.”

Dick didn't want to examine his feelings too deeply. It felt familiar, echoing the time he'd found out Tiger had been abducted. He shut that down before it consumed him. This wasn't the same. He had a good idea where Tiger was. Helena would watch his back. He had to trust the two of them to look after each other until Dick found them again. Or, more likely, they found him.

He just had to deal with the more immediate issue of Bruce. Shit.

Jason put a hand on Dick's shoulder, squeezing gently. “Hey, I'm sorry this happened.”

Dick couldn't let his brain linger on apologies right now, or he'd probably break down. “Do you know why Bruce kicked him out?”

“Yeah,” Jason said calmly. “Tiger told me.”

“And you're not mad about it?” Dick found that hard to believe.

Jason shrugged. “I've done worse things. Hell, Bruce has done worse things. Seems hypocritical.”

“Who would've guessed you'd be the most level-headed out of the two of us...”

“I'm always more level-headed than you.” Jason's tone was very deliberately light. Maybe even joking.

“As if.” Dick didn't have it in him to laugh. After everything he and Tiger had been through, and this was how things were going down.

Dick had a lot of resentment towards Bruce that he'd bitten back during this whole ordeal. But fuck it. Now was the time to let it all loose.

* * *

_**Months Ago** _

Tiger wasn't back when Dick woke. Dick washed up and dressed before he let himself worry. Maybe it hadn't been that long? Except the light seemed different now. Dick scrambled for his watch. It was past noon. Tiger definitely should have been back by now. They hadn't needed too many supplies, just some food and maybe more medical supplies in case something went wrong.

Dick couldn't shake the feeling something had, in fact, gone very wrong.

They'd kept an eye out for stores on the way to the safehouse. There was a convenience store a few blocks away that had everything they needed.

There was a television in the corner of the room. Dick tuned into a news program while he mulled over options, packing the few things they had taken out of their bags the previous night.

He was pulled out of his thoughts almost immediately by a news story, accompanied by a picture of the very store Tiger had likely gone to.

“...the police are still investigating this armed robbery, but early reports would suggest little of value was stolen.”

Blurry CCTV footage of a group of men. It was hard to tell, but it looked like Tiger was just in frame. Shit.

Was it a robbery or a cover? Hard to say. Dick threw on a jacket and a set of hypnos, just in case, and rushed out the door, all those promises Tiger had forced him to make be damned. He couldn't just leave him.

Dick avoided people as much as possible on the way to the store. The shopkeeper was just returning from a lunch break.

“Hi,” Dick said, flashing the man a smile he hoped was nonthreatening. “I heard you had a bit of a scare this morning.”

The shopkeeper grunted, jamming a key into the lock on his register. “Ain't my first armed robbery, kid.”

“I think one of my friends might've been here when it happened,” Dick went on. “Undercover cop, if you'll believe it. He's been working on these armed robberies, but his cover may have been blown.”

“And why didn't the officers this morning tell me about this?”

“Undercover missions are on a need-to-know basis,” Dick replied. He'd anticipated resistance. Just as well he'd put in a set of hypnos. He used them now, pushing through the throbbing in his head.

“Ah. Right. Sorry about your friend.”

“Would you mind letting me take a look at the CCTV footage? I need to make sure it was him.”

“Sure, man.” The shopkeeper stepped into a small staff room on his side of the counter. Dick rounded the counter like a normal person to follow, resisting the temptation just to vault over the damn thing.

Dick watched the robbery on the man's small TV screen. That was definitely Tiger. While a few men aimed guns at the shopkeeper, a few more overran his position. Too many to resist.

“Yeah, that's him,” Dick said, watching the group leave with Tiger in their midst. “Thank you.”

“I thought he was one of them,” said the shopkeeper. “Casing the joint, you know.”

“It's all right. They wanted it to look that way. Leave it with me. I'll take care of it.” He watched the group load Tiger into a car out the front of the store, barely visible. He caught the direction they drove. That was enough to get started.

Dick returned to the safehouse to rid himself of the hypnos, his eyes bleeding profusely for several minutes. He forced himself to breathe, to not get frustrated.

Then, once more, he set out.

“ _If something happens to me, you leave_ ,” Tiger had told him once. “ _Do not look back. Do not try to rescue me. Save yourself. Do not let them find both of us. Promise me._ ”

“Sorry, Tiger,” Dick murmured. “Where I come from, no man gets left behind.”

Dick didn't care how long it would take. He was bringing Tiger back, safe and in one piece.

* * *

**_Now_ **

Bruce, at least, had the grace to look ashamed. “You're too close to this, Dick. He lied to you, to all of us. I do not have the luxury of simply forgiving someone who is a potential threat.”

“How many times have you forgiven me?” Jason pointed out. They were in the batcave, where Bruce had previously been designing a new batarang.

“This has nothing to do with you, Jason.”

“Tiger trusted me to make sure he wasn't forced to leave without telling Dick,” Jason replied. “When were you planning to tell him? Never?”

“I deserved to know when it happened,” Dick added. “I had to find out from a _letter_ , B.”

“Good thing Tiger suspected you were going to kick him out, hey? What were you planning to say? That the guy snuck out in the dead of the night?”

There was something in Bruce's expression that made Dick suspect that, yes, that had been his plan. Dick had to keep breathing, deep and low, before he lost his temper. He wasn't sure it could be avoided at this point, but the longer he put it off, the more seriously Bruce would take him.

Jason had apparently drawn the same conclusion Dick had. “You're a piece of work, Bruce. You know that?”

“If it keeps this family safe, I will be anything I have to be.”

“Excuse me while I vomit.”

Dick had to say something before he exploded. “I didn't drag Tiger halfway across the country, on death's freaking _door_ , to lose him like this, B. You can't just—this wasn't your decision alone. We all deserved to hear about it so we could talk it out like a _family_ , not a—not a fucking dictatorship.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Are you done?”

“No. I'm not. Was this your plan all along? Play nice, get Tiger to let his guard down until you could find a good excuse to get rid of him?”

“No, Dick. It wasn't.”

“Really? Because it damn well feels like it.” So much for not losing his temper. “You've driven him back to Spyral, B.”

“That wasn't—”

“ _Where the hell else could he go_? He didn't have anywhere else to turn! Did you even _think_ before you jumped on the chance to get rid of him?”

“I will not have a Spyral operative living in this house,” Bruce said firmly.

“He didn't go back to Spyral until you forced him out!”

“And yet he was communicating with its leader.”

“Helena's a friend,” Dick replied. “She was looking out for us.”

“Don't be naïve.”

“Don't be paranoid.”

“Paranoia keeps people alive.”

“Yeah, if you call being friendless and alone _living_.” Dick started for the stairs. “I'm just—I'm done. All this talk about trusting me as an adult, planting me in fucking _Spyral_ because you believed in me so much... nice to know you're still just as manipulative to your own family as you are to everyone else.”

“Dick, that's not...”

Dick had one foot on the bottom step. “If you trusted me, you would've talked to me. You didn't. I'm done letting you play me like a fucking fiddle.”

“I do trust you, Dick. Just not with matters like this.”

“ _Yeah_ , if you're trying to win him over,” said Jason, “that's not gonna work.”

“I'm moving out.” Dick took the next step, then the next. “You'll see me out in the field, I guess. I'll work with the rest of the family. We've still got spies in the city that need their asses kicked.”

“Make sure you say goodbye to everyone,” Jason called after him. “I ain't dealing with the demon if you hurt his feelings.”

“I'm sorry it came to this, Dick,” Bruce said. He almost sounded like he meant it.

Dick kept climbing the steps. He didn't respond. Who knew what kind of vitriol would spill from his mouth if he let it? He'd said his piece. He needed to leave before he made things worse.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightwing returns to Gotham's skies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that hiatus was a bit longer than planned. Anyway, I'm back and I've finished my diploma of musical theatre so I should have more free time, at least for a bit. Hopefully I can get this thing finished in that time.
> 
> Guess it's fortunate most of this chapter was already written and I just needed to add another third or so. Thanks, past me.
> 
> Anyway, I would like to formerly apologise for the angstfest that is this chapter.

Nightwing flew again, back in blue and with a nifty new design. He didn't interact with the GCPD or the public, except during rescues. He could already hear the talk, about how he had changed. Maybe he was an imposter pretending to be Nightwing. Or maybe it had turned into a legacy role like Batman.

The truth was, of course, that Nightwing was simply more cautious with people than he used to be. The recently-rectified exposure of his identity and his time in Spyral had seen to that.

Months passed without a word from Tiger. Nightwing flew almost every night, taking down the few spies with the gall to keep infesting Gotham. He also fell back into the old tradition of stopping muggings between missions. After so much time looking of his shoulder, worrying just how much he'd have to bend his morals just to stay in Spyral's good books, being the closest thing Gotham had to a Boy Scout again was downright refreshing.

He'd had the most to do with the Red Hood of late, which was odd but encouraging. The Red Hood generally avoided killing around the bats and seemed to put in a special effort around Nightwing. Maybe that was why Batman never complained Jason got to see his son more than he did.

“I'm still angry,” Dick said one night he and Jason were eating pizza on a rooftop, masks and helmet discarded for the cool night air.

“You have every right to be,” Jason replied through a mouthful of pepperoni. “The demon's asking after you again.”

“I'll arrange another joint patrol soon,” Dick promised.

“Any word from loverboy?”

“He'd kick your ass if he heard you saying that.”

“I'll take that as a no.”

Dick sighed. “Yeah, it's a no.”

“I'm sure he's fine.”

“You suck at platitudes.”

“Shut up and eat your anchovies, you disgusting human being.”

“You had anchovies the other night.”

“It's okay when _I_ do it.”

Dick had made a point to spend time with his siblings whenever he could. Jason and Tim loved their pizza dates, though tended to bicker if Dick ever scheduled them together. Stephanie went for waffles and mashed potatoes, sometimes at the same time. Cass preferred tea dates over meals. Damian preferred to spend their time together fighting crime rather than eating, but Dick had convinced him to settle down for a late night snack a few times.

“Seriously, though,” Jason said, licking his fingers. “As much as it disgusts me to say, Tiger loves you to bits. He'll come back.”

“I feel like an army wife.” Dick tore an anchovy off his pizza, eating it by itself just to watch Jason's disgusted expression. “ _When will my husband return from the war_?”

“Well, you're practically married to the guy.”

“Don't give me ideas.”

“Christ. You're actually considering it.” Jason threw up his hands and dived back into his pizza.

They patrolled together afterwards. It was still strange with the Red Hood. He avoided kill shots, but was all too happy to shoot people and beat them to the limits of what was survivable.

It was after one such fight, where Nightwing was tying a strip of a henchman's shirt over a gushing gunshot wound to the man's thigh, that Batman showed up.

“You're late, big guy,” Nightwing said, testing the tightness of the makeshift bandage. The henchman was out cold.

The Red Hood's face was hidden behind his helmet, so he made a show of shrugging with the entirety of his arms. “He's here for me. Making sure I'm toeing the party line or whatever. I didn't kill anyone. You can chill.”

“You're using excessive force,” Batman pointed out, gesturing to the unconscious henchman.

Hood snorted. “Right. And you never do the same.”

Nightwing could hear sirens. “We should vacate.”

They headed for the roof to watch the police search the warehouse. Nightwing crouched on the edge, watching an ambulance join the crowd of vehicles. So they had taken his suggestion to bring paramedics seriously.

“When was the last time you finished a fight without breaking someone's bones or leaving them gushing blood?” the Red Hood was saying. “I'm playing by your rules. Stop checking up on me.”

“While you're working with the family, it is my responsibility—”

“That's my job when he's with me,” Nightwing said. He'd already been privy to several of these arguments over the past few months.

“You already drove away one of your allies by being an insufferable asshole,” Hood said to Batman. “I've got even less incentive to stick around than Golden Boy did. The only reason I haven't cut and run is because someone needs to watch out for the brats living under your roof.”

“Aw, you do care,” said Nightwing, because he wanted this argument to end already.

“Shut up.”

“Is it out of your system now?” Batman asked.

“I don't know. Are you done stalking me?”

“Are you two planning to go around in circles for hours?” Nightwing interrupted. “Because I am not sitting through this again.”

The police loaded up a few henchman into their cars while the paramedics took the ones who'd suffered most from the Red Hood's bullets. Nightwing watched them drive away while Batman and the Red Hood continued bickering.

Nightwing eventually got up, fishing out his grapnel line. “Job's done. Are you two planning to patrol or should I tell everyone you're busy?”

“I'm outta here,” said the Red Hood, shooting his line for the nearest building. He swung away, leaving Nightwing and Batman alone on the roof.

“He's trying,” Nightwing said. “He doesn't need you looking over his shoulder. It just stresses him out and makes it more likely that he _will_ kill someone.”

“I came to see you this time,” Batman admitted.

“But you couldn't resist ripping into my little brother while you were here.” Nightwing bounced the grapnel in his hand, tossing up whether to shoot the line and leave Batman standing by himself. “Did you have something to say? Crime doesn't stop because we're tongue-tied, B.”

“You still haven't heard from Tiger?”

Right. So this visit wasn't even about him. Nightwing hoped his glare showed well enough through the lenses of his mask.

“No,” he said curtly. “Anything else?” They'd had a few arguments before over this past few months, specifically about whether Tiger intended to come back at all. Nightwing wasn't in the mood for another.

“I... may have been hasty in my actions,” Batman finally said.

“Did I hear that right? Was that almost an apology?”

“Yes.” Batman shifted feet, a nervous tell. Not something he typically let people see. “I'm concerned. If something happened to him, I would feel responsible.”

Nightwing wanted to twist the knife, to tell him that yes, he would indeed be responsible if something had happened. But he needed to be the bigger person. Holding a grudge against people he cared about didn't come easily to him, and it hurt. Batman had come here to present an olive branch. Maybe it was time.

“Sorry,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I haven't heard anything. If I do, I'll let you know.”

“Thank you.” Batman pulled out his own grapnel gun. “Shall we patrol? For old time's sake?”

“Oh, all right, then.”

He was still upset about the whole situation, but that didn't mean he couldn't start to forgive. Of course, if he found out Tiger was hurt or... worse...

They stopped ten muggings and a bank robbery together before Batman had to meet with the GCPD. Nightwing soared alone around the city, losing himself in the rushing of the wind against his ears and through his hair.

He became aware of someone following him near the Narrows. Not a bat or a bird. No distinguishing marks at all, just an all-black ensemble hiding his face. But his movements were familiar.

Nightwing came to rest on a roofstop overlooking one of the few banks in Gotham that hadn't been robbed recently. Batgirl had a tip that something big was going down there soon, just not the exact date. Nightwing had a feeling, though. Maybe tonight was the night.

“I know you're there,” he said after a while.

There was a huff behind him. “I suspected as much.”

Nightwing didn't turn around, but he let a smile stretch across his face. “You're pretty handy with a grapple line. I barely had to slow down for you.”

A laugh, soft. “Barely.” A crinkle of paper. “I brought you a gift.”

“Is it food?” Nightwing backed away from the edge of the roof; Batgirl had planted cameras and sensors to keep the bank under surveillance anyway.

“Get over here and find out.”

Nightwing finally turned around. Tiger's face was hidden by a ski mask, but Dick didn't need that to know it was him.

“Black suits you,” he said, grabbing the paper bag out of his hands. “Come on.”

They ducked behind a chimney, sitting with their backs against it. Tiger rolled up his mask. He looked a little paler than usual, a little washed out, which made the bruiselike circles under his eyes seem darker than they really were.

Dick pulled cardboard cartons out of the bag, cracking one open to take a sniff. “Oh, that's the good stuff. How'd you know where to find the best Chinese in Gotham?”

Tiger gave him a tired smile. “Research.”

Dick shoved a carton into Tiger's hands. “Eat something. You look like death.”

“You flatter me.” Tiger jammed his chopsticks into the carton. “Are you angry?”

Dick had just taken a huge mouthful of noodles, forcing him to swallow before speaking. “No. I'm sure you had your reasons for not contacting me sooner.”

“I honestly cannot tell how you are feeling without seeing your eyes.”

“Oh.” Dick laughed. “Right.” He pressed a button on the side of his mask, and the lenses slid away. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Dick poked his thigh. “Didn't you once say you would never wear spandex?”

“This is not spandex.”

“It's certainly tight enough. You dog, tricking me with the best Chinese food in Gotham when the real gift is sitting right next to me in skintight... whatever material that is.” Dick could practically see the outlines of every individual muscle. Nice to see Tiger was still training hard, despite his evident exhaustion.

Tiger smirked a little. “When in Rome...”

Dick had to kiss him. It took all his willpower not to climb into his lap. The night wasn't over yet, and he would still be patrolling for another hour or so.

“Are you going to ask _why_ I haven't contacted you?” Tiger asked.

“I was working up to it.” Dick twirled his chopsticks through the noodles. “I'm guessing things are pretty hectic.”

“They are. It took time to re-establish myself as a loyal agent. Fortunately, my affiliations with Checkmate are not common knowledge, or I would likely be dead. Even so...” Tiger let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes.

“We don't have to do this now.” Dick closed up his noodle carton and set it aside in favour of holding Tiger's hand. “You really do look tired.”

“I am tired,” Tiger admitted. He closed his own carton one-handed somehow, placing it back into the bag. “We have much to discuss. Are you still patrolling?”

“For a little longer, yeah. How much time do you have?”

“Enough.”

“Do you know where I'm staying?”

Tiger nodded.

“Of course you do, stalker.” Dick squeezed his hand and gave him the code to the apartment's security system. “Wait for me there. I won't be too long.”

“You father would have a coronary if he—”

“Don't worry about him. We only just made up, so he's not about to rock the boat.” Dick packed up their food. “Stick this in the fridge for me?”

“Leave me to my own devices and I _will_ fall asleep.”

“Go ahead. You need it.” Dick got up, pulling Tiger to his feet.

“Wake me when you arrive,” Tiger said, accepting the bag from Dick.

“Okay.” Dick gave him one last kiss. “I'll see you soon.”

He watched Tiger shoot a line to the next building, sliding the lenses back into place. Batgirl's sensors, tied into the bank's alarm system, sent an alert to his communicator.

“I'm in the area,” Nightwing said over the comm line. “Anyone up for a little heroing?”

* * *

The whole family, minus the Red Hood, showed up to deal with the robbery. It was just as well; whoever organised this thing had hired _a lot_ of muscle.

Nightwing nudged a goon with his foot when it was all over. “Yeah, looks like everyone's out for the count. Anyone hurt?”

A chorus of _no_ came through his communicator. Batman put in a call to the police.

They combed through the bank, looking for any hostages they'd missed. Mostly guards and one night manager. Minor injuries. The bats gathered everyone in the atrium.

Nightwing pulled Batman aside. “So, I hate to cut and run, but an old friend just contacted me.”

“You let him into your apartment, didn't you?” Batman sounded more amused than angry.

“He's exhausted. Want me to pass anything on?”

“An apology.” Batman headed back over to the hostages, shooting over his shoulder, “Ask the others.”

At least Batman hadn't asked to visit. Even if Tiger weren't so obviously drained, he and Nightwing had a lot of catching up to do.

Nightwing asked the others as Batman suggested, mostly receiving well-wishes to pass on. Robin threatened to hunt Tiger down if he didn't show up in person soon.

It didn't take long to get back to the apartment via rooftop. Nightwing had been experimenting with different routes for months, shaving a few more seconds off his time with each new attempt.

He deactivated the security at the window and climbed into his bedroom. Tiger was sprawled facedown on the bed, snoring lightly. Dick discarded his mask and sat by him, gently shaking his bare shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered. “It's me.”

Tiger blinked, a little blearily. “Dick?”

Dick stroked his cheek. “Just letting you know I'm here. Go back to sleep.”

Tiger dropped off within seconds. Dick left him to rest, stepping into the bathroom for a much-needed shower. It was incredible how much dirt and grime one could pick up from spending the night out in Gotham.

Afterwards, he sat in his living room in a pair of sweatpants, eating the cold remnants of his noodles in the dark. He'd left the door to the bedroom open so he could hear Tiger breathing. It was strange he could miss something he'd barely noticed on a day-to-day basis before.

While he was still up, Dick usually left the communicator in his ear, especially if he came home early. Jason's voice crackled in his ear.

“You still up, Goldilocks?”

“For the moment. Everything okay?”

“Not sure if the demon's pulling my leg or not. Apparently Tiger showed up?”

“Yeah. He brought me Chinese.”

“Well, that's romantic.”

“Aw, Jay. Don't feel left out. I treasure our pizza dates, too.”

“Fuck off.”

“Want me to say hi? When he's not snoring my apartment down.”

“Sure, whatever. Tell him he better have a good reason for waiting this long or I'll kick his ass.”

“He's been swamped,” Dick replied. “Haven't gotten much out of him yet. We'll talk more when he's had enough sleep and stopped looking like a zombie.”

“As a zombie myself, your statement offends me.”

Dick rolled his eyes “I'll tell him you said hi. _Goodnight_ , Jay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight.” Jason cut the link.

Dick polished off the noodles and stayed up a little longer, checking his computer to make sure the rest of the family got home okay. Then he heard sheets rustling, and a dull _thud_.

“Tiger?” Dick pushed away from his desk, letting the momentum of his chair roll him closer to the bedroom.

Tiger appeared in the doorway, still a little out of it. “'M fine.”

“Nightmare?”

Tiger grunted in response, leaning against the doorframe. Dick got the impression it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Dick wheeled back to the computer and shut it down. “We can stay up a little longer if you need some time.”

Tiger shook his head, retreating to the darkness of the bedroom. “You need your sleep.”

“That wasn't what I asked, T.” Dick followed him to the bed, where Tiger was fumbling with the tangled sheets. “This is the earliest night I've had in months.”

“Technically, you did not ask a question at all.” Tiger finally managed to get the covers straightened out. Dick touched his shoulder, finding a new scar there. He ran his thumb along the raised ridge, feeling Tiger stiffen beneath his hand, and then forcibly relax again.

“I missed you,” Dick said quietly.

Tiger lifted Dick's hand from his shoulder, kissing his fingers. “I missed you, too.”

Dick pulled him closer, stealing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “If you're sure you're okay, we can talk in the morning once you've slept enough.”

Tiger's face was barely visible, but his wry smile filtered into his voice. “I have barely returned and already you are practising your parenting skills on me again.”

“You never know what the future holds.” Dick pushed Tiger onto the bed. “The fam says hi. Bruce says sorry. Damian says you should hang out with him or he'll hunt you down. Now go to sleep.”

* * *

Dick was dimly aware when Tiger got up to pray early in the morning, and half-woke when he returned to bed, kissing Dick's forehead.

He woke properly not long before noon. The sunlight was unseasonably golden, unlike the usual silver that filtered through Gotham's clouds and smog.

Tiger was curled around him, an arm thrown over Dick's stomach. One of Dick's own arms was trapped beneath the man's body. He wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

Dick lifted his free arm above his head, stretching out his torso best he could. Tiger shifted a little, sleeping through it. He looked a little better now, with more colour in his cheeks and some of the purple under his eyes having receded. It'd take more than a single night's sleep to fix whatever he'd been going through, but it was a start.

Tiger's face scrunched up in his sleep, and he couldn't lose the little crease between his eyebrows. He looked like that sometimes when he was under a lot of stress, unable to shake it even in sleep. Dick gently pressed his thumb to the crease until it smoothed out, slackening Tiger's entire face along with it.

That last week or so at the manor together had been the first time Dick had seen the man without that crease working its way into his sleep. Something about facing his demons, about trusting Dick enough to talk about them, had allowed Tiger to relax. He looked younger like that.

Dick was still watching him when he woke, grumbling about the light. Dick sat up to block it and Tiger rolled onto his stomach and shoved his face in the pillow.

“'Morning, sunshine.”

“Shut up.”

“That's way more coherent than I expected.”

Tiger kept his face glued to the pillow. “Would you prefer I grunted at you?”

“Depends on why you're grunting.”

Tiger huffed at him. “And you tease me for my libido.”

“Maybe I wasn't referring to sex. Maybe I have something heavy I need you to lift.”

“Lift it yourself.”

Dick leaned over, pressing his lips to the point of connection between Tiger's back and neck. “How long do we have?”

“Until the evening.” Tiger rolled onto his back. “Your breath is disgusting.”

“You're no better.”

Tiger sat up, pushing Dick over. “I am not doing this on an empty stomach.”

“Doing what?” Dick asked innocently.

Tiger grumbled under his breath and shut himself in the en suite. Dick laughed at him, loud enough to carry through the door on purpose, and went to the kitchen to find his instant pancake batter. He just really wanted pancakes this morning.

Dick was setting a plate of slightly misshapen pancakes on the shitty card table when Tiger emerged from the bedroom, hair slightly damp. He still hadn't bothered to put on a shirt. Dick was okay with that.

“I expected cereal.”

“Oh, these aren't for you. They're all mine. The Cheerios are in the pantry.”

Tiger fell into the nearest dining chair. “Funny.”

Dick dropped a few pancakes onto Tiger's plate. “I try.”

Tiger sighed. “Just sit down.”

Dick felt a surge of affection for him then, in the way he would get so exasperated at Dick's antics and resort to bossing him around to cope with it, knowing full well Dick wouldn't listen to him half the time. And all the times he resorted to gruffness when it was too hard to process everything he was feeling, or when he was desperately close to laughing but still holding onto that final scrap of seriousness before he tipped over the edge.

Tiger raised an eyebrow. “You're staring.”

Dick's throat squeezed and he had to laugh through it to stave off the tears. He wasn't particularly successful. Tiger's throat bobbed as he swallowed, lips pressed tightly together, eyes like smashed glass. The whole of him was like that in a way; even more dangerous when damaged.

“Don't,” Tiger croaked. That danger was written all over his face; he was doing no better than Dick was, but where Dick was more than capable of softening himself for the people he loved, Tiger had to work at it. Whatever ordeal he had been suffering had evidently taken the strength out of him.

Dick breathed, finding a smile. “I love you.”

Tiger gripped the edge of the table, the corners of his mouth thinned into daggers. Dick dragged his chair close and sat down, gently covering Tiger's fist with his hand. He didn't expect him to say anything back; everything Tiger had was devoted to keeping himself from shattering, leaving no energy behind to find that gentle place that had started to become easier for him the longer they were together. The months apart—whatever he'd suffered—had robbed him of that ease.

“It's all right,” Dick assured him. “I know you feel the same.”

Then something in Tiger did break after all, hand spasming against the table. He closed his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. Dick stroked his knuckles.

“I can't—you deserve—”

“Shh.”

“But I—”

“Don't,” Dick said firmly. “I know it's hard for you. We'll get back to that place eventually. You don't have to force it for my sake.” With his free hand, he pinned a few pancakes with his fork and transferred them to a second plate. “Eat something. Then you can tell me what you came here to say.”

Tiger ate silently, staring into his plate. Dick didn't want him to go back to Spyral again, if this was the result. That new scar on his shoulder was bright and awful in the daylight, but Dick dutifully waited until they'd both finished eating and Tiger had insisted he help Dick wash up. There was no arguing with him in this state, so Dick handed him the towel for drying.

Dick tried to keep the question casual, making sure neither of them were holding anything breakable in the midst of the washing up. “What happened to your shoulder?”

“Infighting,” Tiger muttered, twisting the towel around in his fists. They were shaking.

“Honey...”

“The man who tortured me...” Tiger swayed, just the tiniest amount, but steadied himself before Dick could reach out to grab him. “He's Spyral. Part of a rival faction.”

“He gave you that scar?”

Tiger nodded. The rest of his body was frozen, tight as a coiled spring. No wonder he was so messed up.

Dick gently freed the towel from his hands. “Go lie down. I'll finish up.”

“I can—”

“There's not much left to do.” Dick slipped his hand into one of Tiger's, squeezing when the man provided no resistance. “I don't want you going back to Spyral just as tired as when you left.”

Tiger was silent when he finally shuffled out of the room. Dick breathed and focused on the washing. He had to keep himself in one piece. Knowing Tiger had recently faced his torturer again—and possibly came off worse—it was absolutely vital that he became as stabilising an influence as he could be.

Tiger was flat on his back, staring at the ceiling from the bed when Dick joined him and perched on the edge. He didn't pull away when Dick held his hand again, but he didn't particularly react either.

“I'm sorry,” Tiger muttered. “I didn't want to be like this.” His lips cracked into the most brittle of smiles and it was almost worse than watching them turn into daggers. “I wanted this to be...” He laughed. Sharp and broken. “Happy. I wanted this to be happy.”

Dick leaned in, pressing his lips to Tiger's forehead. “You don't have to put on an act with me. I want to see how you're really feeling.”

“Terrible.”

Dick climbed onto the bed properly, curling around Tiger's body as if he could somehow form a protective cocoon against everything outside this room. “Wanna talk about it?”

Tiger shook his head. “There are more pressing matters. I need your help.”

“What can I do?” Dick could almost hear Bruce's voice in the back of his mind, telling him not to bow to the needs of others without hesitation. But Bruce was a large part of why they were in this mess in the first place, so he really wasn't the greatest person to listen to right now.

Tiger found just enough softness to smooth the sharp edges in his eyes. “I need you to come back with me.”

“I don't know how much use I'll be, sweetheart.” Dick would go back in a heartbeat if there was a way he could be useful, but the spy game wasn't something that came naturally to him. But if Tiger was asking, that had to mean he was confident Dick could do something.

Tiger closed his eyes again. He didn't speak for a while. Dick was almost convinced he was never going to speak again. He would've done anything in that moment to pull that pain out of him. Stroking Tiger's hair was a good start.

“I didn't want to drag you into this,” Tiger finally said, quietly.

“It's okay,” Dick soothed. “I want to help.”

“It's not. I made a promise.”

“You said you wouldn't bring me back into it unless absolutely necessary,” Dick reminded him. “I know you. You wouldn't ask me to do this unless you thought it was.”

Tiger opened his eyes at last, but Dick almost wished he hadn't, pained as they were. “The situation is delicate,” he said, voice rough but pretending it wasn't. “You'll need to pose as a prisoner. The other agents—the few we have left—are suspicious of newcomers.”

Dick nodded. “I can deal with that. What do you need me to do?”

“Helena cannot hold onto control for much longer. We need to convince her to shut it all down, before we are overrun by the rival factions. Agents are abandoning us for our rivals every day.”

“We'll need more help than just me,” Dick said.

“Yes. We need your family.”

“I'll talk to them tonight.”

“If you can convince them.” Tiger breathed deeply. “Understandable if you cannot. I would be skeptical in their position.”

“I'll convince them.” Dick was going in to help Tiger no matter what. The family wouldn't let him go in alone, not unless they wanted him to die for real this time.

Tiger closed his fingers around Dick's wrist, still stroking his hair. “Thank you.” Another deep breath, eyes shut for a moment. “I love you.” It was the calmest he'd sounded all day.

Dick kissed him then, unable to bring himself to move away even when they stopped for a moment. “We have a few more hours. Feel like catching up?”

Tiger lifted his head just enough to press their foreheads together. “Yes.” He squeezed Dick's wrist. “Please.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick consults with the family. Whether or not they agree to help him, he is going to help Tiger and Helena end Spyral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here be sex.

“No,” Bruce said. Jason held his hand out to Tim, who rolled his eyes.

“Pay up, kid.”

“I didn't actually agree to the bet.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Enough screwing around. I'm going in, Bruce.”

“I can't approve putting you in that position,” Bruce said.

“And here I thought we'd finally gotten on the same page about Tiger.”

“Tiger's allegiances are not my concern here. This is an unacceptable risk.”

“And putting me in Spyral in the first place wasn't?”

“He's got a point,” said Barbara. “If what Tiger says is true, Spyral is at risk of being overrun by the kind of people you wanted Dick to handle.”

“We have ways of tracking him without detectable technology,” added Tim. “Spyral's leading researcher was killed in the Checkmate attack anyway.”

“The man who tortured Tiger is a member of a rogue Spyral faction,” Dick said. “He's on my shit list, necessity of this mission aside. I want to kick his ass and stop any remaining information and technology falling into the wrong hands. If I have to do this without your help, I will. Just so we're clear.”

Cass appeared from who-the-hell-knew-where and latched her arms around the middle in a hug. “Help him,” she said. Dick hugged her back, trying to channel his gratitude into the contact.

Jason clapped his hands together. “Glad that's settled. Are we gonna talk about something useful now? Like how to track Dick so he doesn't die before we pull his ass out of the fire?”

“Just my ass?”

Damian made a loud noise of disgust, hunched over the batcomputer chair as he was. “Is this cloak and dagger really necessary?”

“Helena hasn't been convinced this is a good idea yet,” Dick told him. “We need to get her on side first and get you guys as much information as possible. Going in blind will get people killed.”

“Tiger's been through enough,” Jason added. “Have we all forgotten the guy almost certainly has PTSD from the shit that's already happened?”

“They've already had another confrontation,” said Dick.

“Fuck.”

“It is unfortunate he doesn't kill anymore,” said Damian. Bruce glared at him over his shoulder. The boy just shrugged. Dick was hard-pressed to disagree himself.

“Tim and I have some ideas about getting tech into you undetected,” said Barbara. “When does Tiger need an answer?”

“This time next week. I'll need to be ready on the night.”

“Plenty of time.” Barbara and Tim headed deeper into the cave, presumably to work on their plans to keep Dick from dying or falling off the radar.

“You will likely be tortured,” Bruce said.

“If that has to happen, I'll deal with it.”

“And if a rogue faction takes over?”

“As long as Tiger and Helena are allowed to continue their work, we'll find a way.”

“And if they force one of them to torture you?”

Cassandra squeezed Dick tighter. He squeezed back gratefully. It wasn't something he wanted to think about, but Bruce's concerns were worth considering.

“Tiger's torturer could force one of you to torture the other if he is part of a successful takeover,” Bruce continued. “It's not just the physical toll you need to be concerned about.”

“I know.” Dick pressed his hand to Cassandra's back; it helped keep him grounded. “In terms making sure we're all capable of helping you guys, it might be better that way.” They could find ways to prevent long-term injury, keep the pain to only what was necessary. But the effect it would have on Tiger in particular was horrifying to even consider. Which would be worse for him: being forced to torture Dick, or possibly Helena, or having one of them torture him?

“Perhaps you could cope well enough in the short term,” said Bruce. “Can Tiger?”

“I don't know.” Dick couldn't get the way Tiger had been today out of his head. Sharp, prickly, pained. Barely a step away from lashing out. He'd had to wall himself off to hold himself together, after months Dick had spent slowly peeling all that away, helping him become comfortable with vulnerability. He couldn't help but wonder if all that work had made things worse for him going back to Spyral.

“We can help him afterwards if it really knocks him around,” Jason said. “He won't crack in there. He wouldn't risk your safety.”

That was also true. As long as they got through this, they could piece themselves and each other back together. Tiger would sooner die than put Dick in any more danger than was absolutely necessary.

“He still owes me a visit,” Damian mumbled.

“We'll make sure that happens,” Dick promised him. Cassandra rubbed his back and Dick found himself breathing easier. He had his family's support. This was going to work.

* * *

 

By the time Tiger climbed into Dick's apartment a week later, Dick was all loaded up with hidden tracking tech, disguised Nightwing equipment and the disassembled parts for a coded radio either Tiger or Helena could use to pass information to the bats.

“I convinced the family to help,” Dick said as Tiger shut the window behind him.

Tiger stayed there for a moment, resting his forehead against the glass. When he finally turned to face Dick, it was immediately apparent something was wrong. He'd been all sharp angles and pain last time. Now his face was stone except the eyes. They were... Dick didn't even know where to begin with them. Burning, but not that intense, wonderful way that made his knees turn to liquid. The fire was out of control, jumping and flickering. Not angry. Not quite.

“You're afraid.” Dick had seen Tiger's fear before. But this was different. There were moments every so often in a fight where Tiger would get this slightly hysterical look in his eyes, generally the moment the odds went to shit, but all it did was fuel him to fight harder. This... wasn't that.

Tiger hovered in place. “This was a bad idea.” Then he finally took a step. And another. And another. Each faster than the last.

“I've already got things sorted with the family,” Dick assured him as Tiger paced to the door, turned around and came back and then started the circuit all over again, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Tim and Babs have got me full of tracking tech Spyral shouldn't be able to detect and I have a coded radio in case you guys need a way to communicate with them.”

“No. This isn't—we're not doing this.”

Dick stepped in his path, hands up. “Tiger. Stop for a sec. Breathe.”

Tiger hovered on the balls of his feet. His breathing didn't get any better, still loud and quick as if he had been running. Dick wanted to touch him, hold him until he was calm, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

“The situation has changed,” Tiger said at last.

“Okay. Talk to me.”

“Helena isn't in charge anymore.”

Well, shit. “And that means...?”

“She's still there. Working. But her power is limited.” Tiger's lips twitched, just the tiniest amount. “At least I have her convinced now.” But that moment of almost-levity evaporated as soon as the words left his mouth. He touched his fist to the nearest wall, no longer speaking English. Dick vaguely recognised some of the words as swears.

“We can still make this work,” Dick assured him. “If they're obsessed with their shiny new toy—aka me—then getting enough intel for an invasion will be easier.”

Tiger splayed his hand out on the wall, nails digging into the plaster, head bowed. “ _He's_ there.”

“The torturer?”

“His name is Bannon. They have me working the prison with him sometimes.” Tiger's hand was shaking.

“All the more reason to shut this shit down.”

“What if he...” Tiger swallowed. “What if he makes me...”

“What? Torture me?” Dick leaned against the wall beside him, offering his hand. Tiger grabbed it, squeezing tight enough to hurt. “I've already talked this out with Bruce. If it happens, we'll get through it. At least you're less likely to cause me an injury that'll make fighting impossible.”

“I can't do that.” It wasn't just Tiger's hand shaking now. Dick guided him away from the wall, sitting him on the bed. Tiger's grip on his hand wasn't letting up any time soon. “I can't hurt you.”

“It might not come to that, okay?” Dick pressed in close, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. “Whatever happens, I trust you.”

Tiger laughed. Loud, uncontrolled, tears bursting from his eyes. “You shouldn't.” He wiped his face dry, shutting it all down, staring at the floor. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Absolutely. Spyral needs to go down, and so does the fucker who tortured you. I'll kick his ass personally if I get the chance.”

Tiger's face twisted horribly for a moment before he smoothed it out again, jaw clenched tight from the effort. If they hadn't been about to head back into the environment that had forced Tiger to repress his pain like that, Dick would've spent some time unravelling it, letting him spill out all the awful thoughts wedged in his mind until the poison was gone. It was a long process and they didn't have time, but he wished they did with everything he had. Going back in there full of everything Tiger was forced to carry right now would make it that much harder to cope.

All Dick could do was hold his hand until he stood up and crossed back to the window.

“We should go,” Tiger said, pushing it open. Dick climbed out with him.

There was a car waiting below. They slid inside, Tiger behind the wheel.

“When we arrive, I will pretend to betray you,” Tiger said, starting the car. “Act betrayed. You thought I was showing you Spyral had changed.”

“Works for me.”

“There is a plane waiting. It will take a few hours to fly to the nearest base.” Tiger focused on watching the road out the windscreen, lapsing into silence.

“Whatever happens,” Dick said as they drove, “no matter what I say, know that I love you. Okay?”

Tiger nodded once. “The same applies to you.”

Too matter-of-fact for Dick's liking, but it wasn't personal. Tiger needed to hold himself together. They would have plenty of time to be as sappy as they liked once this was all over.

* * *

 

Dick knew this plane had an autopilot setting. And that Tiger was deliberately ignoring it. They'd broken through the cloud layer some time ago and it was no longer strictly necessary to be belted in, but here they were. Tiger's knuckles were pale with the force of gripping the steering handles, glaring between the dark sky out the front and at the instruments around him.

These were the last moments they would have together before the lion's den. But Tiger wasn't in the mood to easily accept the affection Dick burned to give him.

“I kind of want to kiss you right now,” he said quietly.

Tiger's fingers flexed on the handles. “No, you do not.”

“Adding mind-reading to your list of talents, T?”

“You would not like me in this state.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am not... in control.” Tiger adjusted their trajectory, just a touch. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“I'm pretty resilient, hon. We know this.” Dick was more than aware of Tiger's tendency towards roughness, especially when he wasn't in the greatest of moods. It had never bothered either of them before.

Tiger set the plane onto autopilot, slumping into his seat. His features were drawn, eyes shadowed by dark circles beneath them. He hadn't been sleeping again.

“Don't worry about me right now.” Dick reached over to lace their fingers together. “What do you want?”

“The usual.” Tiger raised their joined hands to his lips, kissing Dick's knuckles. “You.”

“We've got time.” Dick lurched out of his seat, resting his free hand on the back of Tiger's chair. He leaned down, capturing the man's mouth. He could feel the lingering doubts falling out of Tiger's mind like overripe fruit.

Tiger pressed his hand to the back of Dick's neck, holding him in place as he teased Dick's lips apart with his tongue. Then the world tilted and, somehow, Dick found himself sprawled in Tiger's lap. He righted himself and straddled his legs, reconnecting their lips like they were his only source of oxygen. Tiger's fingers clamped down on his ass, pressing their bodies together in every way imaginable.

Dick... hadn't fully expected this, not after the way Tiger had been acting. “Soooo, are we doing this here?” He rolled his hips against Tiger's hardening cock. “Or are we gonna try somewhere more comfortable?” He wasn't fussed either way. Sex was sex.

Tiger tightened his grip and stood up, forcing Dick to wrap his limbs around him like an octopus. “I have somewhere in mind.” That voice, rumbling and deep with want, shot straight to Dick's cock. “Hold on.”

And, to think, there was a time only a few months ago when Tiger was too weak to carry him like this. Dick buried his face in Tiger's throat as they walked, peppering kisses with just the slightest threat of teeth.

Then he was flying, landing on a bed, crammed into a tiny closet of a room off the main section of the plane. Tiger was already on him, tugging both their clothes off with trembling fingers. Dick lay back and watched, grinning as the man cussed under his breath, fumbling over the buttons of Dick's shirt. Maybe the button-down had been a bad idea.

“You know, we could just pull it off over my head.”

“Sit up.” Tiger dragged him upright and the shirt was gone in a heartbeat.

“Happy to be of service.”

Tiger shoved him back down. “Shh.”

The man made a point of being gentle with preparing Dick just like he always did, but more than made up for it with the heat of his kisses, his free hand twisting Dick's nipple almost to the point of pain. It was one of those things that really shouldn't have been hot but was anyway. Well, Dick had never claimed he didn't have issues.

He squirmed under the attack, and again as Tiger added another finger inside him. He had half a mind to tell Tiger to screw the preparation and get on with the main event, but that was just the masochist in him talking. The nipple violence would have to satisfy that particular side of his weird as shit psyche.

“I'm not sure if you're babying me or trying to break me,” he gasped.

“Both.”

Dick snorted. “Figures.” He jerked; Tiger had rubbed right over his prostate, probably on purpose. He usually reserved that particular manoeuvre for when Dick was getting too chatty for his liking. Which was often.

This wasn't the first time Dick had had sex on a plane, or even the first time with Tiger. Having an actual bed for it was nice. As bendy as he was, chair and bathroom sex lost its novelty when they were the only options. He also didn't appreciate it when his ass got stuck to a leather seat or a faucet went somewhere it shouldn't.

“I like the bed,” Dick said out loud. “Makes a nice change from the last time we tried fucking on a plane.”

“Are you trying to destroy the mood?” Tiger had broken his toe that time and was insufferable for weeks afterwards. A ban on any kind of bathroom sex had persisted for months. It Dick took forever to persuade him to get in the shower with him again, even though no shower had been involved in the incident.

“Or maybe I'm just bored and waiting for you to stick your dick in me.”

“We agreed not to use that word, Dick.”

“Did we? I was probably too busy getting pile-driven at the time.”

Tiger sighed loudly, taking out his fingers in favour of reaching for a condom. Dick did not whine at the loss of contact. Absolutely not.

Tiger raised an eyebrow as he sat back on his heels and rolled the condom on. “Are you that desperate?”

“Do I look that desperate?”

“Yes.” Tiger slicked himself up with another palmful of lube.

“Good call. Get in me.”

Tiger had never been one to waste time. Dick grabbed his shoulders as Tiger drove into him, until he seized Dick's wrists and pressed them against the mattress with absolutely no intention of letting him up any time soon. Whatever patience Tiger had scrounged up for the preparation was all gone now. Zero to sixty in a matter of seconds and Dick's head was nearly hitting the wall already. Just as well Tiger had a good grip on him.

This was the kind of sex they didn't have much anymore, not since sorting out their feelings. Early days had been full of rough fucking, a means to an end, but since then they had both been more interested in the closeness. The intimacy of the whole thing.

Not that getting pounded to within an inch of one's life wasn't intimate. And it kind of made sense, given Tiger's state of mind. Softness wasn't exactly in his repertoire at the moment.

So Dick held on best he could by clamping his legs around Tiger's waist, letting the man hear exactly how every single thing he did affected him. It was just them in here. No one would think he was being murdered if he screamed. He screamed a lot, which only urged Tiger to thrust faster.

Dick managed to catch his breath long enough to say, “Keep doing that.” Tiger replicated the last few thrusts, angled perfectly to render Dick breathless all over again.

“Like that?”

Dick gasped in another breath. “Yes. _Yes_.” He canted his hips a little, heels digging into Tiger's sweat-slicked back, in such a way that had them both cursing with what little air they could suck into their desperate lungs.

Tiger's teeth found Dick's shoulder, fingers squeezing into the bones of his wrists, nails digging into skin. Little points of pain, bringing heat to the surface. Dick's entire body was burning, throbbing, despite not having enough air to kindle the flames.

Tiger buried his face in the pillow, biting down, as he snapped his hips so hard, so fast, that Dick's skull finally met the wall, right as they came with groans and howls and screams.

They moved together, a few moments more, until, spent, Tiger collapsed onto Dick's overheated body, letting his wrists slide free at last. Dick swallowed, throat raw and dry, and ran his hands along the muscles of Tiger's back, too blissed-out to feel pain. Tiger slowly ran the backs of his fingers along Dick's ribs as their breathing slowed in tandem.

Then Tiger lifted himself from Dick, arms shaking from the effort. “Are you hurt?”

“Not really.” A point on the top of Dick's head was starting to throb a little and his wrists and shoulder ached, not even mentioning how he felt inside, but those things didn't exactly warrant a mention when they had both deliberately done more to each other in the past. Because Dick could be a kinky bastard when he wanted to be and Tiger was more than willing to indulge him. Or was it the other way around? Dick's brain was still a little fuzzy from the whole _fucking to within an inch of his life_ thing.

Tiger probed the top of Dick's skull, finding a point of tenderness that made him wince. “I hurt you.”

“The fact it was an accident aside, it's nothing to worry about.”

Then Tiger pressed his thumb against the slightly raw skin on one of Dick's wrists. “I shouldn't have been so careless.” He pressed his lips to the tooth marks on Dick's shoulder. “I wasn't in the right state of mind. We shouldn't have—”

“I'm fine.” Dick grabbed both of Tiger's hands, kissing his fingers. “Really. We've done worse.”

But Tiger was already shaking his head. “I was out of control. I shouldn't have let you—”

“I'm a big boy, T. I can make my own decisions.”

He would've had more luck talking to a brick wall. Or the human equivalent back home. Tiger's eyebrows were creasing, lips twisted, jaw tight. He rolled off the bed and stormed into the tiny bathroom. Dick followed him.

There was a shower in here roughly the size of a matchbox. Dick knew from experience they could both fit, but it was a hell of a squeeze. He hopped in there with Tiger anyway and they swapped bottles back and forth as they washed up.

“I was completely irresponsible,” Tiger was still going on. “Now was not the time to—”

“Look.” Dick slammed the shampoo bottle into the turbulence-safe box that held all their hygiene supplies. “I wanted it, okay? I like it rough and I am more than capable of stopping you if need be. Did I do that? No.”

“You had no idea how I—”

“We only have a few more hours until we're back to Spyral.” Dick smeared a healthy dollop of soap foam across Tiger's chest. “I don't want to spend that time watching you beat yourself up for something I consented to. I'm not hurt. I love you and I want to spend the time we have left cuddling like a pair of lovesick fools.”

“You are a lovesick fool,” Tiger muttered. Well, insults meant progress.

“I am. Let me act like one.” Dick stepped in close and kissed him, just once, barely a moment of contact before it was done. “You did nothing wrong. This is the stress talking. Let's have a few hours without that, okay? Let's just... be together. While we still can.”

Tiger's face came dangerously close to crumpling. He crushed Dick to his chest before that could happen. Dick could feel the beginnings of their arousal coming back, but now wasn't the time.

Now was the time for comfort before they willingly put themselves in harm's way all over again.

* * *

 

Helena met them as they stepped off the plane. “This is a shit idea,” she said as her greeting. “Dick, pretend you don't know what's going on. I'll confiscate your equipment now, under the guise of security concerns.”

Dick nodded, passing her his rucksack. “There's something interesting in there you might want to squirrel away before you pass it through official channels.”

Helena snorted, shouldering the bag. “As if we have official channels anymore. Come on.” She started for the main building. It wasn't as large as St Hadrian's, nor as picturesque. It was squat, blockish and painted a downright ugly grey. Fitting, really.

Tiger's fingers brushed against the back of Dick's hand once before retreating. In a few minutes, they would have to play-act a betrayal. Dick wasn't looking forward to the things the both of them would say and do. Tiger hadn't been the same since the torture; there was no telling how anything would affect him anymore. And Dick had never been that great with betrayals, feigned or not. To act it well enough to be believed, he'd have to feel it. Maybe he should've been an actor instead of a vigilante. Less chance of being tortured and dying horribly.

The interior of the base was just as utilitarian as the outside. Dick could feel his soul shrivelling inside him as they walked through halls upon halls of metal and concrete and shattered dreams. Spyral bases were typically prettier than this. Maybe all the cool shit was hiding behind all the closed doors they passed. Or maybe stashed in the torture chamber he was undoubtedly going to frequent.

Finally, they reached an office. Something a little nicer to look at. With carpet! And a big window. All important offices needed big windows.

And, lounging on the desk, the torturer. Bannon. Dick hadn't taken a close look at him while rescuing Tiger, having been preoccupied with... well, rescuing Tiger. The man was deathly pale, bald and sporting a scar over one eye, long enough that it stretched whenever he smiled.

And smile he did. “Boss is out. Cuff him.”

Tiger, muscles bunched in his jaw, accepted a set of cuffs from Helena and slipped Dick's wrists into them.

“The hell?” Dick jerked away, but not enough that Tiger would lose control over him. “I trusted you!”

“That was a mistake,” Tiger said dully, as the cuffs snicked shut behind Dick's back, securing his wrists together.

“I told you he wouldn't put up a fight,” said Helena.

“You'll get your comeuppance soon enough,” Dick said, hoping he'd injected enough fury into those words. He certainly couldn't fight Tiger and he doubted Tiger could fight him. Offering as little resistance as possible would be best for everyone involved, even if it ran the risk of suspicion.

Bannon slid off the desk and slammed his fist into Dick's gut. “Just a little payback.”

Dick sagged in Tiger's grip, gasping for air. So he had to make do with the most hateful glare he could manage. Wasn't hard.

Bannon seized his chin, fingers digging painfully into bone. “You like my pet tiger? It took me ever so long to domesticate him. Pain is a far better motivator than love. If that's really the correct word for whatever you two lovebirds have.”

“Funny,” Dick replied. “If I'd known that's all it took to win him over, I wouldn't have bothered fucking him.”

Tiger's grip on him tightened, just for a moment.

Bannon released Dick. “Take him down to the dungeon.”

“You have a dungeon? Didn't think this glorified office building had anything that interesting.”

Bannon raised an eyebrow. “We'll see if we can put your incessant chatter to use later. Perhaps your tongue mightn't require as much loosening as I expected of Batman's first protege.” He waved them off. “Get him out of my sight. I'll inform the boss.”

Tiger dragged him backwards, out of the office. The cameras in the corridor were anything but subtle, so Dick kept his mouth shut. They marched to a set of stairs and Helena slipped past them to head down first. Tiger shoved him a little, good enough for the cameras, before leading him downstairs.

“There are no cameras down here,” Helena said as they reached the bottom. The walls and floors were definitely concrete and the lighting was a little too bright to be menacing, but the bars on each cell were as metal as you'd expect from a torture dungeon. There was another door, heavy and metal, at the other end.

“Torture chamber,” Tiger said to Dick's unasked question. “You'll spend the rest of your time in one of these cells.”

“I'll keep your equipment safe,” said Helena, stepping forward to unlock the nearest cell door. “Get in.”

Dick stepped into the cell. There was the usual bed, sink and toilet. Nothing else. He didn't even get a window.

“If I get injured too badly, I won't be much use,” Dick told them, holding his arms back so Tiger could unlock the cuffs. They clicked off him.

Tiger tossed them to Helena. “We'll try to avoid serious injuries where we can.”

“In the meantime,” said Helena, “we'll uncover who our boss is.”

“You mean you don't know?”

“Never seen them.”

“That's... comforting.”

“I have my suspicions,” Tiger said quietly.

Helena actually rolled her eyes. “I thought you were going to shoot Alia in the head? You seemed very intent on doing that when you decided to leave Checkmate.”

“Well. I didn't.”

Helena sighed loudly, latching the cuffs onto her belt. “This is your fault, Dick.”

“It is,” Dick agreed.

Helena started for the stairs once more. “Say whatever you need to say to each other. No more than five minutes. I'll be sorting your equipment and sending the unimportant things to security.”

The instant she was gone, Dick found himself crushed against Tiger's chest. “I thought we were going to _avoid_ injury,” he said.

“Shut up.” Tiger's voice was slightly muffled by the fact his face was buried in Dick's shoulder.

“We'll get through this.”

“I hope we will.” Tiger stepped back. “Do not aggravate him. And perhaps think of any unimportant information you can give up in the event you reach a breaking point. I will try to protect you.”

“I trust you,” Dick said, which only served to darken Tiger's expression.

“I suppose we will find out if I am worthy of that trust.”

Then Tiger locked him in the cell and retreated upstairs. Not quite the comforting conversation Dick had hoped for, but it would have to do. Now the hard part began. The waiting. The hoping. And probably the pain.

Hopefully this all hadn't been a huge miscalculation and Dick would be capable of helping his family as planned. An extra inside man at close to his full capabilities would be a boon. A severely injured inside man would just divide attention. Anything could happen between now and the moment Tiger and Helena had gathered enough intel to make an attack likely to succeed.

All he could do now was protect himself best he could and hope Tiger and Helena could help him without compromising the mission.

The fact so much of their plan relied on hope didn't sit well with him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interrogator interrogates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is torture in this chapter, of multiple varieties. Pain-based and deprivation-based.

The first few hours of Dick's captivity were incredibly boring. Not one visitor. Not even a spot of torture. Then again, he and Tiger had arrived in the dark hours of the morning. It was a miracle Bannon had even deigned to acknowledge their presence. Guess it wasn't every day you got to manipulate a former victim of yours to give someone else up for the same treatment.

The mattress was thin, doing little to soften the metal frame digging into Dick's back. He'd already counted all the cracks on the ceiling and had started on the little black specks of indeterminate origin. Mould? Spiders? A visual representation of humanity's collective soul?

Well, at least it could be washed—or painted over—if that were the case. It was a nice thought. A few dark spots here and there didn't have to ruin everything.

The door to the cell block creaked open and Tiger slipped inside. He looked even more worn than he had the last time Dick had seen him only a few hours ago.

“Bannon will be here soon,” Tiger said, sliding a key card into the lock on Dick's cell door. “He has tasked me with moving you into the...” He trailed off, nudging the door open.

Dick rolled off the bed. “Okay. Let's get this over with.”

Tiger didn't bother cuffing him for the short trip to the door at the other end of the cell block, keeping a perfunctory grip on his arm instead.

The torture chamber was the same concrete as the previous room, which shouldn't have come as a surprise, but Dick had somehow expected something a little more... medieval. A flaming torch on the wall rather than fluorescent ceiling lights, perhaps?

Tiger sat him in the metal chair in the centre of the room, strapping his wrists in place. There was also a thin metal pole nearby with scrapes along its surface. Probably from cuffed victims writhing in agony. Happy thought.

“Bannon's preferences vary,” Tiger muttered, strapping Dick's ankles to the chair. “He does like to leave his victims chained to the pole for extended periods of time, but that is not his plan today, it would seem.”

“Oh, I'm sure we'll be best friends by the time I kick his head in at the end of all this.”

“Do not run your mouth in front of him.”

Dick tended to run his mouth whenever people tried to interrogate him. He wasn't sure if it was a problem or not. Sometimes it got him in trouble, but other times it distracted the interrogator from whatever they'd been trying to get out of him. A Spyral interrogator probably wouldn't be so easily led, however.

Tiger must've seen something in his face, because he gripped Dick's shoulders. “Listen. You cannot afford to be seriously injured by angering him.”

“I'll do my best, but if he's asking for information I'm not willing to give, there's gonna be hell to pay anyway.”

“Bannon does not always inflict pain for the sake of information.” Tiger's grip on his shoulders was bordering on painful. “Sometimes he does it for fun.”

“Wonderful.” Dick had seen enough of that shit with people like the Joker back home. At least it was familiar. And maybe he could learn a thing or two while he suffered this man's hospitality. No one ever said interrogations had to be one way. In fact, Batman had trained him from day one to turn them into sources of information. There had even been occasions when they had let themselves be captured on purpose just so they could gather intel.

“I'll be careful,” Dick promised. He'd be no use to them if he aggravated his captor enough for receive an injury severe enough to render him unable to fight.

“You had better.” Tiger pressed his lips to Dick's forehead, just for a moment. “I will do what I can to protect you.”

On any other day, Dick might've teased him for that protectiveness. But, in this situation, he'd need all the help he could get.

“I'll try not to make your job any harder than it has to be.”

Tiger had to leave quickly after that, evidently not wanting to cross paths with Bannon when he didn't have to. That gave Dick a few minutes to assess the situation.

The chair and the pole were the two forms of restraint available in the room. There were no windows and the door was the only way in or out. However, being so far removed from the security system and the rest of the building, it would take time for anyone to notice if someone went missing down here. That could both work for and against Dick, depending on whether he was the one missing or had caused someone to go missing.

The level of soundproofing was unclear and noises would likely echo off the rough concrete that comprised the walls, ceiling and floor, but the distance from the rest of the building also made that unnecessary anyway.

This place could either be his saviour or his undoing. Only time would tell.

Bannon's arrival put an end to his wondering, at least for now. There was a little metal trolley in the corner, on which Bannon set a rolled up piece of leather that likely contained the tools of his trade.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Bannon said mildly, unrolling his toolkit. Dick wasn't seated at a good enough angle to see its contents. “Had to catch up on my beauty sleep.”

“I was just thinking you looked oddly beautiful this fine morning.”

“I see captivity hasn't curbed that tongue of yours yet,” Bannon said, running his fingers along the tools without picking any of them up. “Good.” He stepped away from the table, rolling up the sleeves on his cheap buttoned shirt. He probably had a thousand of them in the event any were ruined during torture. A little blood spray here or there, perhaps. A standard-issue Spyral t-shirt probably would've served him better, but clearly this guy thought he had an image to uphold.

And he probably liked walking around with the blood on him as if it made him look intimidating. Seemed like the type.

“Let's start with something easy.”

Dick bit back a snarky comment about how he would never give away his mother's recipes. It'd be a shame to waste that one on this asshole. At least the Joker would find it funny. Then again, he found everything funny.

“Who helped you gain access to Spyral?”

“It wasn't hard,” Dick replied. “For a big, sneaky spy organisation, you'll let anyone join.”

That earned him a backhand across the cheek. Subtle.

Dick rolled his eyes. “The Matron needed a new partner. I needed to disappear for a while. It worked out for both of us.” He wasn't exactly sure how much information this guy had about his identity, aside from knowing he was Nightwing. Helena had tried to wipe all traces of identifying information about him from Spyral's files. Best to keep the details under wraps, just in case.

“And why would someone like you be interested in such a position?”

That was a piece of information Dick was not interested in sharing. “You mean, aside from the fact I needed to disappear? Because that'd be a great motivator for most people.”

Another backhand. It stung, but wasn't the worst thing that had happened to him. Bannon didn't bother asking the question again. He could always be saving it for later. He had no reason to believe anyone would be coming to help Dick given that Tiger had made such a show of betraying him, so they had time to draw things out.

“I suppose I should be nice today,” Bannon said. “After all that heartbreak.”

Dick glared up at him. It wasn't difficult, considering all the shit he had done to Tiger, even if he was angry for a different reason than Bannon believed.

“Oh, I don't doubt your original plan was to seduce him for your own ends,” Bannon continued. “But, clearly, that didn't work out too well for you, falling for your own game. That's the problem with you heroic types. You can never keep your heads on straight. Spies don't make good lovers, sweetheart.”

“Gee, I hadn't noticed.”

“Did Batman put you up to that?”

Dick snorted. “Please. You think I'd be his first choice for that kind of mission?”

“With Tiger's preferences, yes.”

“You seem to think we had access to more information than we actually did, buddy.” Dick leaned back in the seat best he could; not quite the lounging smugness he was going for, but it would have to do. “I hate to break it to you, but we don't actually know all that much about Spyral.”

“You're a better liar than I expected, Nightwing.”

Dick smiled. “It's a gift.”

“We have plenty of time to change that.” Bannon left him there, still strapped to the chair.

Time passed in fits and starts, flowing in and out with Dick's concentration. He hadn't been hit all that hard yet. He was just bored as hell. Just as the thoughts of forced starvation and dehydration flitted into his mind, the door opened to deliver Tiger into the room.

He rushed forward to undo the restraints. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Not sure. A while.” At least an hour, probably. Time was funny in this room.

“I only saw him in the hall a few minutes ago.” Tiger helped him up, gripping Dick's arms when his legs weren't quite ready to wake up after sitting for so long. Dick's head ended up on his shoulder somehow. Tiger held him, just for a moment, before he led Dick back to his cell.

Dick sat on the bed, shaking out his legs, while Tiger crouched on the floor beside him. “I'm okay,” he promised. “He smacked me around a little but I've done worse to myself in training. He definitely thinks I'm heartbroken over your shocking betrayal.”

Tiger nodded sharply, just once. “He will attempt to use that. I may still be forced to torture you.”

“Whatever happens, I trust you.”

Tiger lowered his gaze, hand reaching up to squeeze Dick's. “Helena and I will continue to gather what intel we can. We may still have an ally or two left in the building.”

“Be careful. They could've been turned.”

“I know.” Tiger kissed his knuckles. “I should leave. The longer I am absent, the greater the suspicion upon our ruse. I have been assigned caretaking duties, so I will be along soon enough with a meal.”

“Assuming Bannon doesn't decide to try the good old food and water deprivation trick.”

“He better not,” Tiger said darkly. He left shortly thereafter. Dick lay down, feeling his cheek throb from the blows Bannon had inflicted. Annoying, unpleasant, but could've been worse. Would most certainly get worse before this was all over. Of that, Dick had no doubt.

However, he would continue to hope. Positive thinking could do wonders.

* * *

Tiger couldn't linger when he came to provide... well, it was probably breakfast. Or lunch. Dick still couldn't get a handle on the time. He'd figure it out come dinner time, probably.

Bannon left him alone for the rest of that day. Dick's internal clock reoriented itself at dinner as expected. Tiger turned out the lights for sleep, which meant it had to be night. Surely. Unless they were trying to confuse him on purpose. Nah. It was night.

Tiger was quiet when he brought Dick back to the torture chamber shortly after an unsatisfying breakfast of soggy cornflakes. Dick was almost more offended by that than the whole being a prisoner thing.

He'd more or less forgotten about it by the time Bannon showed up in a fresh white shirt. “I take it your accommodations are comfortable?”

“Oh, absolutely. The bars are a nice touch.”

“You're far more interesting to talk to than your former partner,” Bannon said lightly, back slightly turned as he sorted through his toolkit of terror.

“A sense of humour goes a long way.”

Bannon picked up a hammer and Dick was suddenly all-too-aware that his hands were strapped in place. A smash to the fingers would be unavoidable. Dick took a deep breath and didn't let that spike of fear show on his face. He'd faced worse than this. He'd had a bomb strapped to him and had to be killed just to stop it from blowing. This was nothing.

Bannon bounced the hammer in his hand. “I think you know what this is capable of. Shall we talk?”

“You're a lot more polite than you were to Tiger.”

“I was pressed for time. Here? I have all the time in the world. You will talk, one way or another, even if I have to wear you down little-by-little.” He rested the hammer against the fingers of Dick's left hand. Nice of him. “Now. How exactly did a vigilante get access to Spyral?”

“Quite easily, really. I already told you Helena was looking for a new partner and that I needed to disappear. I had a number of useful skills already, so it wasn't the same as training a newbie from scratch. Hell of a culture shock, though.”

“Did Batman send you here?”

That was pretty obvious, so Dick let that piece of information go. “Who else would?”

“How did you communicate with him?”

That information, however, was not negotiable. Helena had access to similar technology to keep Batman informed, so he couldn't afford to say anything. Dick smiled at Bannon instead of answering, which, predictably, resulted in a thick burst of pain in his fingers. Dick grunted, but managed to curtail the rest of his reaction.

“I'll ask again. How did you communicate with Batman?”

Dick wasn't sure how far Bannon would go to secure this information. He needed a believeable lie. And he also needed to hold out against the torture long enough that Bannon would swallow it.

His fingers were throbbing, and the next blow was stronger. His fingers weren't quite broken yet, but it wouldn't take long if Bannon kept upping the force each time. He couldn't afford to break his fingers. He needed that lie, but the pain slowed his thoughts.

Bannon asked the question again. Then, an idea. Would it be unrealistic that he possibly could get off St Hadrian's grounds to speak to Batman personally at a nearby location? That could work. But how would they—OUCH—arrange a meeting?

“Your fingers cannot take much more,” Bannon said. “How did you communicate with Batman?”

Dick had the answer. “I snuck off the grounds every so often to brief him in person. We would arrange the next meeting then.”

“And if circumstances changed?” The hammer hovered, threatening.

Dick swallowed against pain-nausea, the throbbing in his fingers somehow igniting a sympathetic throb in his temples. “I'd pay a local to send a letter to a mailbox Batman rented under an alias in Gotham. Don't bother asking for the location, or the alias. He stopped using them after I got out.”

“Convenient.”

“But true.” Dick wasn't looking forward to his fingers breaking if Bannon didn't accept that.

But Bannon stepped back and set the hammer down on the table. “It appears the Matron didn't keep as tight a leash on her charges as she should have.”

“Minos was in charge when I got there, and we all know he was shit at his job. Matron's takeover had a rather messy transitional period. Unavoidable, really, considering it was all quite sudden.” At least talking kept his mind off the painful throbbing in his fingers.

“You had issues with Minos?”

“Who didn't?” He made a killer robot and tried to murder both Dick and Tiger with it. Of course he held a grudge. Dick definitely wasn't going to volunteer any information about that, however, much less that Minos's construction of the robot in question was the original reason Dick was assigned to infiltrate Spyral in the first place.

Mercifully, Bannon left him. Of course, his absence meant there was nothing left to distract Dick from his hand. Strapped in as he was, there was no way to relieve the pain. There was a whole heart, throbbing just in his hand, pushing burning blood through his fingers. He couldn't bring himself to look. One of his fingernails hurt more than the others. He didn't want to know why that was. Ignorance, in this case, was surely bliss.

Time was slow this time. Dick counted his breaths. He had to focus on something other than his hand before he lost it. It was just a hand. Nothing was broken as far as he could tell. He would be fine. Breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Dick lost count three times, at which point Tiger finally came to put him out of his misery. His face was thunderous as he unstrapped Dick from the chair, not even giving him a chance to try and stand before he lifted him and carried him to the bed in his cell.

Dick sat on the edge, leaning sideways against the wall. Tiger reached for his hand, but Dick recoiled, unable to stop himself.

“I need to examine your hand,” Tiger said slowly.

Dick had to hold his breath before he could let Tiger touch it. Tiger bent each finger and Dick swore loudly in response.

“They're not broken,” Tiger said. “This nail is severely damaged. Rinse it in the sink and then keep your hand elevated. I'll get you some ice.”

Holding it under the water provided some relief. Tiger was back quickly, breathless, with a tied cloth full of ice cubes. Less suspicious than raiding the medical supplies, perhaps.

“Lie down.” Tiger moved Dick's hand onto his own chest once he had, setting the ice on top. “You'll be okay. Nothing's broken.”

“I'm fine,” Dick said, a little croaky. Tiger helped him drink from a cold bottle of water. “Any luck finding the boss?”

“Not yet.”

“But you suspect Alia.”

“I do.” Tiger sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on Dick's knee. “What did you tell Bannon?”

“Nothing dangerous. Some truths and a lie. Batman assigned me, everyone hated Minos, I made up some lies about how I communicated with Bats. Face-to-face meetings, anonymous mailboxes in Gotham.”

“Are you still in pain?”

“Not as much.” The ice had dulled it somewhat, even if he'd still prefer his fingers didn't exist. “Will he come back today? It's still early.” Dick couldn't keep the trepidation out of his voice, which was the last thing Tiger needed to hear.

“Possibly. He did little to you yesterday. He may need to compensate.”

“Great.”

“You can survive this, jaanaana.” Tiger had used that word on a few occasions before. Dick had been tempted to look it up, but felt that wouldn't be in the spirit of things.

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?

“When we get out of here, perhaps.”

“I'll hold you to it.” Dick really needed to learn Pashto.

Tiger definitely lingered longer than he should have, until someone else entered. Fortunately, it was only Helena.

“You've been down here too long,” she warned. “I could've been someone else.”

A muscle jumped in Tiger's jaw, but he nodded all the same.

“Any news?” Dick asked.

“Communication with your backup has been established. Now we need to minimise it to necessary information only. I got them a schematic of the building and will pass additional information as I find it. Tiger, we need to get out of here. You can come back here at lunch.”

Tiger squeezed Dick's knee and followed Helena out, leaving the ice behind. Dick supposed he could either hide it, or possibly not even bother, if Bannon showed up. Would he even care? Hard to say. But he'd probably figure out Dick had been icing it even if he did try to hide it. So maybe it wasn't even worth trying. Maybe it would appear that Tiger was fucking with his emotions. That could work.

Bannon did come back sometime after lunch, only to chain Dick to the pole—hell, he even did his own dirty work this time—and leave him there with his arms twisted uncomfortably as they remained in a raised position behind him. Lovely.

Dick couldn't be certain, but he was sure hours passed with no one looking in on him. His shoulders were prickling with pain and his back ached from trying to contort himself into a position that would relieve them. Standing didn't work. He had to bend himself backwards in a way the pole wouldn't quite allow, because his hands were chained too low for that. He had to keep shifting between sitting, crouching and half-standing in an attempt to find relief for short spaces of time before a different part of his body would start complaining.

It had to be past dinner time by now. Surely. Was Bannon really going the deprivation route? Could Tiger or Helena possibly help him out before it got too dire? Food and water aside, he'd have to pee sometime and he'd really rather not wet himself if at all possible. He wasn't sure he would be given a change of clothes.

He already kinda had to pee. Not urgent yet, but that did not bode well for the hours to come. His stomach was already grumbling, throat already dry. This was going to suck.

Time passed slower when you were hungry. Or thirsty. Or needed to pee. There was a dripping sound echoing through the room, from a leak in some hidden corner somewhere. That did not help.

Dick couldn't decide what was the best thing to focus on. If he could just pick something out of the postural discomfort, hand pain, full bladder, hunger or thirst then this all would be so much easier.

The bladder thing was definitely what he had to focus on least. And, of course, knowing that made it that much harder to think of anything else. God damn it.

Was having a penis more or less convenient in times when you had to hold your urine? There should be a study on that, if there wasn't already. It was an important question. And one that was not helping Dick right now.

His shoulders were really starting to hurt. His hand still throbbed. And his tongue felt like sandpaper. Or like he'd eaten the entire Sahara Desert.

This was not going well. If he could just find a comfortable enough position to sleep, maybe he could get away from this for a few hours. He certainly was tired enough.

He'd have to sit for that. If his shoulders could take it. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, it'd happen eventually.

Or he could try to knock himself out on the pole. Probably ill-advised.

He couldn't rest his head against the pole comfortably in this seated position, so he let his head droop forward instead.

It worked, at least for a time. There was something to be said for Batman's training. Sleep where and when you can. Even when your shoulders are at risk of being removed from their sockets.

But the whole situation had only become more dire in however long he'd managed to drift off. Probably not long. But now his mouth was drier, stomach emptier, shoulders almost numb except for stabbing pains, and his bladder needed to empty _yesterday_.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He was going to bust a kidney or something at this rate.

And then, finally, salvation. Tiger.

“We don't have long,” Tiger hissed, unlocking the cuffs. Dick's arms were stiff and he needed Tiger's help to bring them down against his sides.

“I am going to piss myself if I sit here much longer.”

Tiger hauled him to his feet and back to the cell. He leaned against the outside of the bars, watching the door while Dick relieved himself. It was painful after holding it that long. Once the urgency had died down a bit, he was able to take in his surroundings a little better. There was a tray of food and drink on his bed.

“Only have a little,” Tiger advised once Dick had finished, washed his hands and sat on the bed. “I may not be able to get you out again for a while. He's wearing you down for something. I do not know what, but he has been very interested in my whereabouts.”

This could be the time, then. Dick took a few sips of water, ate enough food that his stomach wasn't digesting itself. Any more could create problems if he was stuck on the pole for too long. His kidneys probably couldn't take much more of those bladder emergencies. Whatever happened, he knew he'd have to have his wits about him. Tiger would need that from him.

“I do not know how I will fare,” Tiger said, still watching the door rather than Dick.

“Me neither. I'll try not to traumatise you too much.”

“I share the sentiment.”

All too soon, it seemed, Tiger had to chain him back up, but he'd swapped the cuffs, apparently, because Dick was damn sure his hands hadn't had quite that much freedom to move along the pole previously. Tiger put a finger to his lips. Message received.

The door shut behind him with echoing finality. Soon, they would both be tested. Pain was one thing, but coming from Tiger, and knowing how much it would affect the both of them, was something else.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiger didn't want to do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so fucking sorry.
> 
> **Anyway, more torture, including electrocution and suffocation.**
> 
> If any of those things trigger you to the point it's too much to read even with forewarning, I just wrote out a summary for a friend with one of these triggers so I can send that to you.

Tiger had known all along this was going to happen, but that didn't mean he was ready. He could never be ready for this. Dick had been worn down by hours of being chained to that pole without food or water. There was only so much Tiger could do without arousing suspicion. Helena believed Bannon would know Tiger had helped Dick even the small amount that he had. Tiger could not bring himself to care.

Helena had a smaller office than she used to, when she was director of Spyral. She also took less pride in its condition, half-heartedly dusting it every so often when visitors were expected. There was one window, looking out at distant mountains. They were oddly hypnotising, or maybe that was simply Tiger's exhaustion leading him to stare at them for long periods of time before Helena would finally catch his attention.

Helena joined him at the window. “Can you do this?”

Tiger was unsure, but that answer would not satisfy her. “Yes.”

“It may be more difficult than anticipated,” Helena continued. “We didn't account for the deprivation treatment. He may not handle it as well as he would have otherwise.”

That had been weighing on Tiger's mind ever since he'd discovered Dick's situation a few hours ago. A tiny amount of food, water and bladder relief would not help much.

“You need to have the strength he won't have,” Helena said.

Tiger nodded curtly, eyes still fixed on the mountains. Better out there than in here. Why had he ever thought returning to Spyral had been a good idea? It was difficult to not be bitter about Bruce Wayne's behaviour now, given what it had ultimately led to. Tiger never should have let Dick become involved in this.

“Bannon is interrogating you as much as he is Dick. Remember that. Remember your cover. Do not let either of them see how much it hurts you. I'll use the time he's down there with you to break into the director's office.” The one that should've been hers, which Bannon was currently using but didn't actually own. That honour went to whoever was in charge now, whose identity Helena had taken upon herself to discover.

Bannon found the two of them in Helena's office shortly thereafter. Tiger had to fight nausea every time he saw the man. He hadn't had a single good night's rest ever since Bannon had shown his face here.

Bannon smiled horribly. “I have a job for you, Tiger.”

Tiger didn't bother asking what that was.

Bannon turned on his heel and marched out the door, evidently expecting Tiger to follow, which he did. “Our guest has provided some limited information, but his attitude irks me. I would rather not continue wasting time with his word games in order to receive scraps of information. Perhaps you can help with that.”

Tiger would have to communicate to Dick after this what Bannon wanted. Maybe if Dick acted defeated, Bannon would go easier on him. Tiger wouldn't know. He hadn't been captured for long enough to reach that point, even if it had not been far away when Dick found him.

Then again, doing that was totally outside Dick's nature. Maybe it wouldn't be convincing if one session with Tiger seemed to break him. The thought of needing more than that to convince Bannon Dick's changed attitude was real made Tiger feel sick all over again.

Stop thinking. Compartmentalise. Getting through this first trial was all that mattered right now.

Dick was still chained to the pole, pallid from both the terrible lighting and hours of restraint. His eyes sharpened when Bannon and Tiger entered, but not by much. Tiger couldn't determine whether it was the pain, hunger, thirst or just plain exhaustion that had dimmed him.

Tiger unchained Dick per Bannon's instructions and half-carried him to the chair, doing his best to ignore the half-swallowed gasp when Dick was forced to use his shoulders in any way. Tiger strapped him in, focusing on the leather straps rather than Dick's face. They both needed a moment.

Then Bannon handed Tiger a stun gun.

“Something easy for your first time with us,” said Bannon. “All you have to do is press a button when I say so.”

“You're a real asshole, you know that?” said Dick. His voice was scratchy, likely from dehydration.

“Shock him.”

Tiger touched the stun gun to Dick's torso, well away from his heart, and pressed the button for as short a moment as he dared. Dick jerked in his seat, but didn't make a sound. This time. It wouldn't take long for Dick's muscles to be exhausted in his current state. Potential burns aside, the buildup of lactic acid would, at the very least, result in aches and pains and general fatigue after this was over.

“Now, I am very interested in how you managed to seduce our friend here,” Bannon said to Dick.

Dick tried to shrug, gritting his teeth as he evidently remembered the shit his shoulders had just gone through. “Just kinda happened. Take your victories when you can, you know?”

“And...?”

Dick came visibly close to rolling his eyes. “We slept together a couple of times. Shit happens. I figured having Agent 1 on my side could be handy, so I took it further. Clearly, that ended well for me.”

Tiger consciously reminded himself there was no way Dick was about to tell the truth to Bannon. Not on this. They had been through enough to know their relationship was secure. Dick had come all the way out there for him, after all.

“Feel free to shock him again,” Bannon said. “He is being quite rude to you.”

That was less of an invitation and more of a thinly-veiled order. Tiger pressed the stun gun to Dick's torso again, earning another jerk and a grunt this time. Dick exhaled loudly afterwards, and probably wouldn't have remained upright if he wasn't strapped securely to the chair. This was wearing him out quickly, and Tiger was only doing the bare minimum.

“And how did you come to sleep together?” Bannon asked. Oddly personal.

“I don't do well with isolation. Realising that, Tiger came onto me. I rebuffed his advances, then realised it was probably a good idea. Get in his good graces.” Close to the truth, but not quite there. Sometimes it was better not to stray too far from the truth so it was easier to keep the story straight. Other times, like the Batman communication question, the further from the truth they were, the better.

“You are aware Spyral has rules about fraternisation, yes?”

“Which generally aren't enforced,” Dick pointed out. “Don't tell me no one knew I was sleeping with Agent 8 once upon a time.”

“Any other agent lovers I should be aware of?”

“If there were, you'd already know.”

“Is there a point to this?” Tiger found himself asking.

“Oh, I'm just trying to determine the true breadth of Nightwing's influence on our agents,” Bannon said mildly. “No matter. Nightwing has clearly proven he is incapable of hiding his sexual conquests.”

“I feel like I should be offended,” Dick said. Tiger wanted to tell him to shut up.

Blessedly, Bannon ignored that. “Where did you and Tiger go after leaving Spyral?” It was a question Bannon could've asked Tiger, but maybe it wasn't as fun to ask someone you weren't torturing at the present moment.

“Gotham, obviously.”

“How did you convince Tiger to leave with you?”

“Spyral was a mess after the Daedalus thing. I figured that was my best chance for getting out and, at the time, I believed Tiger to be of the same mind. Just as well he never met my family, then. I'd hate to tell the big guy I brought a _traitor into the batcave_.” Dick made sure to voice that last part very pointedly at Tiger, who showed no reaction. There had to be a reason for the lie. Perhaps it would be safer if Tiger didn't appear to know the identities of the Gotham vigilantes.

“You should shock him for that,” Bannon said.

Tiger had to oblige. Dick cried out once as his whole body stuttered, and groaned once it was over. Sweat was collecting at his hairline and he was breathing far too heavily for Tiger's liking.

“You should really curb that tongue of yours, Nightwing,” said Bannon. “It seems to be getting you into trouble.”

Dick opened his mouth to make a smartass reply, but apparently thought better of it at the last second. Good. Maybe they could get out of this without too much more pain.

“Ah, you're learning.” Bannon retreated to his table—Dick and Tiger both held their breath—and picked out a... plastic bag? “You might want to get that breathing under control, Nightwing, before I do it for you.”

Dick had already been quite pale due to his previous treatment. This did not help.

“Now, your fellow vigilantes in Gotham City have proven to be quite a thorn in Spyral's side,” said Bannon, shaking the bag out until it formed a more open shape. “They have proven quite adept at finding our footholds and removing agents from the city. How were they able to find our agents so easily?”

“Tiger and I were followed into the city,” Dick replied. “Not that hard to figure out there are Spyral agents there. The rest was good old-fashioned detective work.”

“They completely bypassed our dummy bases. How did they know to do that?”

Dick and Tiger had provided their share of information about operation tactics in the time they'd spent at Wayne Manor. But Tiger, according to Dick's lie, had never been there. Dick had provided useful information, but most of it had been Tiger's. Whether Bannon would believe Dick had provided all the information himself was anyone's guess.

Dick seemed to realise that, too, because he was playing hard to get with the information Bannon sought. As in, he remained completely silent. Tiger hoped he was doing that on purpose to make whatever clever lie he had seem more plausible when he finally shared it.

“Shock him. Don't stop until I say so.”

Tiger had been dreading that order. He placed the stun gun in a new position—Dick probably had a burn in the old one—and turned it on. Dick's body shook, teeth jammed together. Tiger wanted to stop already, but he couldn't. Dick grunted from the pain, again and again, louder each time. Tiger was of a mind to kill Bannon and get the both of them out of here. Fuck the mission.

When Bannon finally told him to stop, Dick barely had a moment to gasp before Bannon had shoved the bag over his head, wrapping the base tight around his neck to stop any more air from getting in. Dick jerked weakly, locked in place by the restraints and his exhaustion. Bannon only let up when Dick stopped moving.

Dick was conscious, but only barely. He sucked down air.

Bannon shoved the bag into Tiger's hands. “Now. I'm going to ask again. How did your allies know how to tell the difference between a dummy base and a real one?”

“I stole files,” Dick said quietly. He breathed. “Before.”

“Before you left Spyral?”

Dick nodded.

“What files?”

“Field ops. Decoy protocols. Agent assignment algorithms.” Dick and Tiger had taken a whole lot more than that, plus the information stored in their brains, but the less Bannon suspected Batman knew, the better.

“Of all the available files, that's all?”

“We were in a hurry.”

“And how did Batman receive this files from you?”

“Ever heard of a flash drive?” Dick bit out, apparently having recovered just enough to be pissed off by the whole situation. “I handed it to him. Did you think I used some kind of high-tech brain link to _beam_ the information to him?”

Tiger backhanded him before he said anything else that would get him in trouble. He couldn't pull back his strength as much as he would've liked, given Dick's condition, so his head snapped right to the side. Dick closed his eyes for a moment.

“It seems you _want_ us to hurt you,” said Bannon. Tiger wanted to say anger was a natural reaction to what he'd been through, but wasn't sure how to phrase it without sounding like he was defending Dick. Even if that was what he wanted to do.

“I am uncertain he will provide any more useful information in this state,” Tiger said, hoping that would suffice. “Additional torture would be more entertaining than useful at this time.”

“I am quite enjoying myself, I will admit. Shock him again.”

Damn it. Tiger found a new spot, still far enough from Dick's heart that it wouldn't cause immediate heart failure.

“Don't stop until I say so.”

Tiger pressed the button, half-watching Dick's reaction and half-watching Bannon putter around his table of torture implements, putting the plastic bag away, straightening his knives, stroking the hammer. Dick screamed, breathless, barely loud enough to count. Tiger had to force himself to keep doing this. Stopping now, raising suspicion, would make everything Dick had suffered utterly pointless.

Bannon packed up his kit, taking his time to make it all neat and ordered. Dick's head listed to the side, eyes closing, and it was only then that Bannon finally gave the signal to stop. He took the stun gun from Tiger's hand, sliding it into the leather toolkit.

Dick's head drooped forward, shirt transparent with sweat.

“Put him back in his cell,” Bannon said, smiling his way out the door.

Tiger reached for the nearest wrist strap, slowly feeding it out of the buckle until it was open. “Are you with me, Dick?”

Dick's breathing shifted deeper, but he didn't respond. Tiger unstrapped his other wrist and knelt to free his ankles.

It was that point Dick's breathing hitched, fingers on his uninjured hand clenching around the arm of the chair. He didn't try to move, even after his ankles were freed. Tiger leaned sideways, to try and meet Dick's eyes. They were still closed, screwed shut, lashes wet.

“He's gone, Dick,” Tiger said, as gently as he could manage when all he wanted to do was chase after Bannon and snap his neck. “We're alone. I'm sorry.”

* * *

Dick had lost track of everything as soon as the last shock had begun. He came back to himself much later, head pillowed on Tiger's chest as they lay on the bed in his cell. Dick was lying more on Tiger than the bed, which would be a problem if Bannon returned, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Dick's whole body was wrung out. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. A few spots on his torso burned, but dealing with them would require getting up. Evidently Tiger had been unable to do much about them while Dick had been out of it.

“Are you with me now?” Tiger asked softly.

Dick nodded, not even bothering to lift it.

“You should eat something. Have some water.” But neither of them moved. “Are you in pain?”

“A little.”

“Burns?”

Dick nodded.

Tiger sighed, his chest lifting and dropping Dick's head. “Helena will look for me soon. And scold me for wasting time down here, most likely.” Not that he was making an effort to do anything about that.

The door squeaked open. “I heard that, Tiger,” Helena said, jabbing at the communicator in her ear as she stepped inside.

“No one told you to listen in.” Tiger's response was a little snappier than usual.

Helena ignored it, resting against the bars. “Injuries?”

“Burns,” Tiger replied. “I was unable to examine them earlier.”

“You should do that now. You've already spent far too long down here.”

The look Tiger gave her could've stripped paint off the walls.

“Don't look at me like that. You're well aware it's a risk.” She was right, but Dick also didn't want Tiger going anywhere. Being alone right now was... not ideal. In his exhaustion, he had no control over his body language. His thoughts were damn well on display, which sucked because Tiger was having a hard enough time without Dick telegraphing his anxiety all over the place.

“This was a bad idea,” Tiger muttered into Dick's hair, holding him closer.

“We're committed.” Helena was doggedly sticking to being the voice of reason. Someone had to, and Dick and Tiger certainly weren't up for it. “I got into the director's office. It's as we expected. Alia is behind this.”

“Do we know when she will return here?”

“In five days.”

“It is possible she will simply order Bannon to kill Dick. We should arrange the attack to begin just before she arrives. Too soon for her to aid the defence too much, but too late to retreat.”

“I'll find the exact timing and make the arrangements. Tiger, when Dick is feeling better, help him memorise the building's layout.”

Dick had to endure this for five more days. How could a unit of time be so short and yet horribly long at the same time?

Helena rested her forehead against the bars. “Dick? Have you eaten?”

Dick shook his head.

“I'll bring you something. Tiger, check his injuries.”

Tiger pushed him into a seated position and helped him remove his shirt. Tiger had hidden a first-aid kit under the bed, since Bannon didn't seem to give a shit about the cell. All the more reason to get the attack underway before Alia arrived. She probably would care about such minute details.

Tiger cleaned the three burns from contact with the stun gun. Dick tried not to flinch, but he had little control over his body, which was aching all over as if he'd run a marathon without warming up first. Lactic acid was an asshole.

Tiger pressed his lips to Dick's bare shoulder and used stick-on bandages to cover the burns, just for a little while. Helena returned with a small amount of fruit and fresh water, plus a clean shirt. Dick didn't feel like doing much of anything, let alone eating, but he wasn't about to give either Tiger or Helena the opportunity to force it in his mouth if they had to. Which they totally would.

“Don't stay much longer,” Helena warned Tiger, taking the finished tray away with her.

Tiger helped Dick into the fresh shirt and they lay down again.

“You'll have to leave eventually,” Dick said.

“I'll leave when I'm ready,” Tiger muttered bitterly. “When you're ready.”

Dick was never going to be ready. He'd spent hours chained up, in pain and alone, and had just been tortured by the man he loved against both their wills. He wanted Tiger to stay, both for his own sake and for Tiger's.

Tiger made a slow circle on Dick's back with his palm. “Get some rest. I'll leave when you're asleep.”

Despite his exhaustion, sleep wasn't really on the cards. He was more in the mood to lie here and be miserable. Maybe it would've been kinder to make Tiger leave, knowing the man was paying very close attention to how Dick was feeling, but Dick couldn't bring himself to enact that kind of selflessness right now.

“We can do five more days,” Tiger promised.

Dick almost said he didn't want to, but that wasn't helpful, even if he'd rather have a complete nervous breakdown than spend another minute in this place. But he had to. He chose to do this.

But, _fuck_ he hurt all over. If he never had to move his shoulders again, he would be a happy man. So far, he'd been able to lie his way out of providing accurate information that he didn't want Bannon knowing. But he couldn't rely on that. Sooner or later, his creativity would fail him. He certainly couldn't have come up with a lie if he'd been asked something sensitive at the end of today's interrogation.

Tiger cradled the back of Dick's head, resting his chin on top. “Dick. You need your rest. I will wake you in a few hours, I promise. You will need to eat small amounts at regular intervals anyway.”

Dick had managed to sleep while chained to the pole, but it seemed impossible now. He'd known this thing with Tiger was coming, but that hadn't helped. There was no way he could voice that without making Tiger feel worse than he already did.

“You're quiet,” Tiger said. Dick didn't have it in him to be a smartass, even with Tiger stating the obvious. He dislodged his head from beneath Tiger's to meet his eyes, which were full of concern. Dick managed the weakest of smiles and reached up with what little strength he had to kiss his cheek.

* * *

Bannon didn't always call on Tiger to assist in interrogations. Helena continued using Bannon's interrogation time to investigate restricted areas, passing the intel onto Batman.

Tiger, when he could afford to linger, set about helping Dick memorise the building's layout and the plan they were putting together. There weren't many points of entry available to outside forces, so the bulk of the family would be entering through the front door, with a few slipping in through other, smaller, entrances. They would wait to enter until Bannon was with Dick and Tiger would then help him take the man out.

“And what about those allies you and Helena were going on about?” Dick was propped up against the wall on the bed, nursing a nosebleed into a tissue. Nothing broken. It would pass soon enough.

“Most are not interested in fighting either side,” Tiger said, passing Dick a fresh tissue. “Those people have escape routes planned. A small group have agreed to assist. Gloria is one of them.”

“Huh. Been a while. Would've thought she'd want to escape so she could see her kids again.”

“She wishes to make sure we succeed. Desertion will put her family at risk if we do not.”

“Fair enough.” Dick pushed the map further down his legs, the better to see with his tissue-holding hand in the way.

“How's the bleeding?”

Dick dabbed at his nostrils. “Getting better.”

“Did you tell him anything?”

“He asked how much Batman knew about hypnos. He had to make this nosebleed happen before I answered, so I guess I convinced him Batman hasn't had a chance to study them properly.”

Tiger dampened a tissue in the sink and passed it to Dick, who cleaned the dried blood off his face. Tiger took the tissue from his hands after a few moments, taking over the task. That was fine by Dick. His shoulder had been killing him anyway.

“Will you be able to fight when the time comes?” Tiger asked, swiping the damp tissue across the corner of Dick's mouth.

“In this state? Probably. I don't know if my answer'll be the same if I have another round with that pole.”

“Just three more days, Dick. Are your shoulders still hurting?”

“When I use them too much, yeah. I probably won't notice it as much in the middle of a fight.”

Tiger threw the tissue into the toilet on the other side of the cell and hid the map underneath the mattress. “I'll try to get to you as soon as the fighting starts. You will not be left alone if I can help it.”

“I'm starting to suspect I'm more of a hindrance than a help.”

Tiger cupped Dick's cheeks between his palms. “No. You are providing a useful distraction for Helena's investigation and, to my shame, I prefer having you close, even under these circumstances.”

“You smooth talker, you.”

Tiger made a sound of disgust. “You must be feeling better.”

“For the moment.”

Tiger pressed his lips to Dick's forehead. “I love you. I'm sorry I put you in this situation.”

“Well, to be fair, you did try to stop me.” Dick could just _feel_ Tiger wanting to argue, but he kept quiet. They were both doing a lot of that. Some things were better left unsaid, especially in a situation such as this.

They kissed instead of arguing. The door squeaked and they separated, which was just as well, because Bannon had returned.

“Well, isn't this cosy?” The man looked like he'd just won the lottery. Fuck.

“Someone had to clean up the mess you made of my face,” Dick shot back immediately. It wasn't technically a lie, so...

“Still mouthing off, Nightwing? Haven't you learned your lesson yet?”

“I'm a slow learner.”

Tiger shot him a look that clearly said _shut up_. It was probably in Dick's best interests, but he'd never been good at looking after himself.

“Who did you think was patching me up after you were done with me, Bannon?”

That just made Bannon smile even wider. “You seem awfully keen to defend your betrayer.”

“I don't see many people down here and you're a grade-A asshole, so I don't have an endless supply of people who'll patch me up and talk to me every so often.”

“Guilty conscience, Tiger?”

Tiger always seemed to struggle with answering back to Bannon, which was no surprise. “A healthy prisoner will last longer,” he finally came out with. “The longer he survives, the more information he will give us.” Dick made sure to school his expression into that of hurt, though he couldn't telegraph it too much or Bannon would realise he was bullshitting. This whole plan could fall apart if Bannon stopped believing Tiger's handing Dick over to Spyral was an act of betrayal.

Bannon's face was positively gleeful. “Oh, I'm sure. Perhaps you could convince me further. But don't bruise your knuckles too quickly. Or perhaps I'll let you borrow my brass ones.”

That was all the warning Dick got before Bannon had Tiger deliver him to the torture chamber once again.

Multiple sessions in one day wore Dick down, breaking him faster. Perhaps that was why Bannon always made sure he'd had his own session before he brought Tiger in to do the dirty work.

This time, however, Tiger was not permitted to stay and tend to Dick's medical needs. Dick's head throbbed as he lay in bed, lights out in a mimicry of night. No dinner had come, but Dick probably couldn't have eaten anyway. His ribs were definitely bruised and there had been a few gut punches that made him want to vomit.

But the door squeaked on its noisy hinges. Dick thought, for a second, maybe Tiger had managed to get away for a moment, but...

“Hello, dear.”

“Gloria?”

“Matron sent me.” A flashlight clicked on and she unlocked the cell door. “Your partner couldn't get away from Bannon. I only have a moment, so show me where you're hurt.”

“Not much you can do without ice,” Dick said, lifting his shirt to show her the bruises on his torso. Gloria produced a handful of washcloths.

“These won't work as well as ice, but better than nothing.” She dampened them in the sink, pushed Dick onto his back and laid them over the worst of the bruising. She put one over his eye, which had swollen slightly. “Whoever is bringing you breakfast will take them, but be sure to hide them just in case.”

“Do you think Bannon suspects Tiger now?”

“Bannon suspects everyone. If Tiger's position is too tenuous, I will take over his caretaking duties until the reckoning begins.” She patted his hand. “Matron tells me you're Nightwing. I take it that's your preferred name?”

“Around people who can't know my identity? Yes.”

Gloria's smile was barely visible in the thin beam from the flashlight, but it was refreshing all the same.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interrogator has a few tricks up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More torture, and a big creepy machine.

Dick was relieved to find Tiger was put back on caretaking duties. However, he no longer hung around once his job was done. The most he touched Dick outside of medical necessity was to squeeze his hand. They couldn't risk Bannon walking in on them again.

Bannon pushed the both of them even harder in interrogation. He still favoured electrocution and other methods that didn't require physical force. Maybe he didn't want to give Tiger a chance to hold back. Each session stretched longer than the last.

Dick needed this to end.

After one particularly packed day—Dick now knew what waterboarding felt like, and wished he didn't—Tiger still came to fetch him late that night.

Dick barely held back a groan. “What now?”

“Bannon needs you upstairs,” Tiger said dully, securing cuffs around Dick's already raw wrists. Even the loosest setting Tiger dared use felt like burning against his skin.

Tiger escorted him out of the cell block and into the facility proper. Helena was waiting by one of the doors in the world's most boring hallway.

“One of Dr Netz's machines is in there,” she warned. “It never made it past the prototype stage. It was designed as a torture device that left no lasting effects, but every test subject has suffered long-term physical ailments if used too long. So don't be a smartass.”

Just one more day, Dick reminded himself. Tomorrow, his family would arrive and they would get out of here. He had to keep himself in one piece for the occasion.

“You seen this thing before?” Dick asked Tiger, who shook his head.

They stepped inside. Helena didn't follow.

The machine took up most of the room, with big metal boxes of computer shit, a vertical gurney covered in straps, and an enormous control panel manned by Bannon and one of Netz's scientist protégés. Gloria hovered near another panel that appeared to be a heartbeat monitor.

“Strap him in,” said Bannon. “Tightly, if you please. We wouldn't want our friend hurting himself, now would we? And don't forget the electrodes.”

Dick was already worn out from three torture sessions during the day. But he couldn't do anything about it, so he let Tiger lead him to the gurney, dodging electrodes and metal spikes and other nasty shit. Tiger helped him step onto the platform and pulled the straps tight across his body. Dick's arms were trapped by his sides, which immediately freaked him right out. The scientist stepped forward to attach some of the electrodes to Dick's temples, which didn't help matters.

Tiger and the scientist retreated behind the control panels, leaving Dick up there alone. A glass dome slid into place around the lower half of his body.

“This machine is designed to help interrogators extract information,” Bannon said. He nodded to the scientist and the machinery inside the dome began to whirr and shift. A metal spike pressed against Dick's thigh and other, more blunt metal arms followed suit, creeping him the fuck out and they hadn't even done anything yet.

“The machine is primed for stage one, sir,” said the scientist.

“His vitals are up and running,” Gloria added. No hiding how much the machine freaked Dick out, then.

Bannon placed one hand on the control panel, leaning into it with a locked straight arm, and smiled up at Dick. “I have been very patient over these past few days. Despite your resistance, you have provided useful information. However, the questions I wish to ask now, I expect you will not answer without additional persuasion.” Bannon's shoulder gave an audible pop as he leaned more deeply into his hand. “Now, first question. Spyral had a file containing identifying information about the superhero community. It is missing. What have you done with it?”

“Nothing,” Dick answered. Helena had removed it herself. She probably had a copy as insurance, but Dick didn't know for certain.

“Are you sure?”

“I never witnessed him accessing such a file,” Tiger supplied.

“Perhaps he did so without your knowledge.” Bannon nodded to the scientist, who pressed a button.

Dick's head split with pain and he flopped against the restraints. His vision burst and suddenly everything was too bright and loud and he was drowning in it. Beeps turned to screams, whirrs into roars. If he could've covered his ears, he would have.

And then it stopped. He sucked down huge lungfuls of air as his head throbbed in protest.

“That was just a taste of what this machine can do,” said Bannon. “Now what did you do with that file?”

“ _Nothing_.” Dick's voice cracked on the word. If his hands were free right in this moment...

“Again,” Bannon said to the scientist.

It was worse this time, sharper, louder in his head, coursing throughout his whole body. Somehow, it tipped over the brink, and suddenly it dimmed, quietened, but then there was a sharp pain in his thigh and he was back. He hadn't escaped. The metal spike had jammed into his leg, injecting something that forced him awake.

Fuck it. He screamed.

The room was pulsing, turning, blurring, burning. This wasn't Spyral. This was hell. He had died and gone to hell.

And then it stopped. Tiger's eyes were boring into him, but that was the last place he could look right now. The metal spike detached itself from his thigh, which fucking hurt.

“I'll ask again,” said Bannon.

“I had nothing to do with that file, you fucking asshole.”

“Then who removed it?”

“I don't know.” Now he _was_ lying. If Bannon wouldn't accept that, maybe he'd have to lie again, pretend that he actually did delete the file. Claim it was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about it. That was only if he had to, though. Bannon would take far too much pleasure in punishing him for that. And he couldn't even pass out to get away from it because of whatever drugs had been in that spike-needle-thing.

Bannon watched him for a long moment, but then shrugged and moved on. “Very well. Turn the machine up to the next level. This next question will require more persuasion.”

“Remember you can't give him another dose of the wakeup drug for another four hours,” Gloria said. “The side-effects would make him incoherent until the original dosage stops taking effect.”

“Is the calibration complete?” Bannon asked the scientist, who nodded. “Good. Now, Nightwing. Owing to the fact our superhero files were stolen and our technology hampered, identifying you and your Gotham compatriots has proven quite difficult. You're going to help me with that.”

 _Like hell_ , Dick thought. He kept his mouth shut. Tiger had raised his eyebrow behind Bannon's back. It wasn't exactly a secret the Gotham vigilantes kept their identities particularly close to their chests. Asking one of them to give up that kind of information would be less productive than talking to a brick wall. Dick had plenty of experience with that, having been raised by a brick wall himself.

To be perfectly honest, Bannon probably just wanted an excuse to fry Dick to within an inch of his life, if not further.

The man's smirk was enough to inspire pacifists to declare war. “Now, where shall we start? Ah, yes. Why exactly does your face not exist to facial recognition software?”

“Uh, because that'd defeat the purpose of the whole secret identity thing?”

“How did Batman manage to infiltrate every piece of this software I have encountered?”

“Because he's Batman.” Any futher explanation would require digging into Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne leveraging his connections with other companies that produce that kind of software, and the Justice League's space station that had technology designed to detect when a member of the community was at risk of exposure.

Bannon nodded to the scientist and the pain drilled into Dick's skull all over again. Light burst in his vision, which didn't help one bit.

“How has Batman gotten his hands on the software?” Bannon asked once it had stopped.

Dick took a few deep breaths before he could answer the way he wanted to. “Because he's a technological genius you can never hope to match. Ask him if you want the details. I just reap the benefits. Next question.”

Bannon eyed him for a solid minute. Dick didn't give him the satisfaction of breaking eye contact.

They moved on. “Very well. Next question it is. How many vigilantes affiliated with Batman reside in Gotham City?”

“I don't talk to everyone. I couldn't tell you.” This was true. Dick had a rough idea, but there were a few part-timers and newer heroes he didn't know very well. And Catwoman was anyone's guess regarding what side she was on.

“With your friendly reputation?”

“That was before Spyral, buddy.”

“Do you really expect me to believe you don't know who is operating within your own city?”

“As long as Batman knows, fine by me.”

“So Batman's word is law? That's how it is?”

“Obviously.” Dick wasn't quite picking up on the point of this line of questioning, but he couldn't tell if that was the lingering pain or Bannon being particularly squirrelly.

“And you have never disobeyed his orders?”

“I disobey a lot of people.”

“Does he know you're here?”

Ah. So that was the point. He wanted to know if Batman was about to mount a rescue.

“He forbade me from coming,” Dick said, which was somewhat accurate, even if Batman had ultimately relented.

“Does he know you ignored his orders?”

“I don't know. I don't usually tell people I'm about to disobey them.” Hopefully the vitals Gloria monitored wouldn't give away the lie, given the torture had probably thrown them off already. She certainly wouldn't tell Bannon if they did, but he could always look for himself. And then they would all be in trouble.

“And what exactly did you intend to do here?”

“I had received assurances that Spyral was heading in a less shitty direction. I came to see for myself. We all know what happened next.”

“And how likely is it that Batman is going to appear on our doorstep?”

“No idea. As much as I'd like to live in a fantasy world, it wouldn't serve me well to pretend he knew I'd been captured at this particular location.”

“If he did know, it wouldn't serve you well to tell the truth, would it?”

“I don't know what to tell you, man.”

“Maybe more persuasion will help clear up your confusion.”

It was longer this time. The pain, which had been concentrated in his head, exploded downwards into his neck, his already overtaxed shoulders, his chest, legs, feet. Everywhere. His teeth were fucking rattling.

Hell, they were screeching, right there in his mouth. It was all too bright, too loud, too _sharp_. A monstrous merry-go-round of pain and noise and light and death, whirling faster and faster and he screamed and screamed and begged to get off the ride.

His head was going to explode or his neck would snap or he would burn from the inside out—eyes popping, eardrums exploding, throat tearing—until there was nothing left but a smoking skeleton and then—only then—would he know peace.

“Enough,” said Bannon. The pain stopped. “Now, tell me the truth. Does Batman know you are here?”

That last bout had left Dick physically shaken, his stomach staging a protest. He swallowed against it. “No.”

“Do we need to go another round?” said Bannon. Tiger twitched, just a touch, beside him. Neither of them could afford the truth to come out. No matter how much he had to endure, it was better for Batman to be able to infiltrate the facility as planned than it would be for Dick to be in fighting shape. They could work around his condition, but Spyral anticipating the attack would leave the whole plan in shambles and then Dick would never get the fuck out of here.

The scientist adjusted the settings on the control panel once more and the machine began a deep, bone-rattling hum. Dick had to endure this.

He had to.

* * *

Hours later, Gloria tended to Dick, who had finally lost consciousness, in the cell. Tiger didn't want to leave.

“I've got this covered,” Gloria kept telling him. It didn't help.

Dick hadn't changed his answer, not even when Bannon changed tactics, leaving the machine running and swearing only to stop it when Dick provided the answers he wanted. Alia's imminent return had made him desperate for have something to show for the days of having a captured vigilante with no directorial oversight. Eventually, however, even the wakeup drug waned just enough that it couldn't stand against Dick's body trying to protect itself and he had passed out. There were perhaps two more hours until he could be dosed again, but it was late at night and there were preparations to be made for Alia's arrival so Tiger sorely hoped they were done with this.

“Tiger,” Gloria said firmly, at odds with her gentle hands probing the base of Dick's skull. “You need to report to Helena, make sure she knows Dick will be of limited use tomorrow. I'll medicate him best I can, but he will need help. The longer you're down here, the smaller your window to discuss that.”

Tiger forced a breath. She was right. With Bannon's suspicion, it would not be long before he sought Tiger out to make sure he wasn't misbehaving. It seemed unlikely Bannon knew the true depth of Tiger's allegiances, but at the very least he seemed concerned that Tiger was experiencing far too much empathy for Dick's suffering.

Helena was still seated at the desk in her office despite the lateness of the hour. “I expected you ten minutes ago. Report.”

Tiger rested his hands on the back of the nearest chair, but couldn't bring himself to sit down. “Bannon believes Batman knows Nightwing is here. Nightwing refused to corroborate that and passed out from the sustained torture. Gloria is tending to him.” Forcing himself to speak like this, like the person he cared for most in the world had not just suffered terribly before his eyes, took everything he had.

Helena drummed her fingers on the tabletop, frowning. “We will have to tread carefully, then.”

“Gloria believes his fighting ability will be limited.”

“I'll have you and Gloria help him as soon as you're able tomorrow.”

“Did you find anything useful?” Tiger didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Using Dick's torture as a diversion so Helena could keep digging for information left a bad taste in his mouth. Allowing that machine to exist—how had Helena thought such a thing did not deserve to be destroyed?—made him furious.

“I found the automated alarm system. Batman and his allies can infiltrate the building entirely without detection. Of course, if someone sees them and manually raises the alarm, that advantage is gone.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Given we have little control over what Bannon does to—”

“The machine, Helena. That thing should have been destroyed.”

“I thought it was,” Helena admitted. “I ordered them all decommissioned as soon as the dust settled. Alia must have had access to one I didn't know about. She and Dr Netz kept many things hidden from me.”

Tiger swallowed down his anger, even though he wanted to throw something. “As soon as we have control of this place, destroy that thing.”

“I intend to.” Helena pushed back her chair. “It's late. We both need rest. I understand your frustration, but it is not productive in our current situation.”

That only made Tiger want to stab something now, but she had a point. He would just have to wait until the fight tomorrow. He could channel all his feelings into violence then.

Tiger had been neglecting his prayers these past few days, but there was still time to wash up for the final prayer of the night. He missed the peace it brought him.

There was no place of worship in this place, so he made do with his bedroom. He had almost forgotten what this was like. Slowing down, for a short time, to connect with something bigger than himself. Bigger than this whole mess they were in.

The process calmed him enough that he thought maybe, just maybe, he could sleep tonight.

Until Bannon barged in at the end, of course, like the piece of shit he was. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”

“That should be obvious, Bannon.” Tiger lifted his Quran, which he had just closed. “I have met infants with better observation skills.”

Bannon made himself at home on the end of Tiger's bed; now Tiger would officially be incapable of sleeping there. “Shall we talk?”

“Can it wait until morning?” Or until never, as Dick would quip. Thinking about him only served to bring back the impotent rage Tiger had managed to set aside. So much for peace.

“I'd prefer if it didn't.”

Tiger put his Quran away and leaned against the nearest wall. “Fine. Spit it out.”

“I understand your decision to hand Nightwing over to Spyral has put you in a difficult position.”

“I would prefer if you spoke plainly.” Tiger did not have the patience for this feigned concern and genteel bullshit Bannon liked to wear like a coat every once a while, before a shift in weather allowed him to discard it, now that it no longer served his purposes.

“You appear to feel remorse for choosing to remain loyal to Spyral rather than your lover. You have reacted poorly to his interrogations. I am concerned you will be unable to do what must be done when the director returns and provides orders regarding our prisoner.”

Tiger had to fight to keep his expression unreadable, even as his blood chilled inside him. Whether the order came immediately or not, Alia would eventually have Dick killed. Assuming the plan he had created with Helena and Batman worked, Dick would not remain imprisoned long enough for this to be an issue. But it was still a cause for concern. If something went wrong and Batman's attack was delayed too long, Dick could die. That could not be allowed to happen.

“This still does not explain why you have invaded my bedroom at this hour.” It wasn't hard to show irritation. Tiger was plenty irritated, and more.

“I think it best we put you under arrest until the boss's orders have been delivered and carried out.” Bannon plucked a keycard from his pocket. “Fortunately, I can lock you in this room rather than dragging you into a cell. You will have all your usual comforts.”

A wild thought crossed Tiger's mind that maybe he could fight and overpower Bannon right now, hide him somewhere until the attack. But Bannon had gotten the better of Tiger in their previous clashes, even when they had been on equal footing and Tiger was not chained to a wall and—he forced himself to cut that memory off before it took hold of him. Anything less than guaranteed success was too risky. So Tiger discarded the idea, for Dick's sake.

“If that is what you must do,” he forced out.

Bannon smiled benignly—when he was anything but—and patted Tiger's cheek on his way out. Tiger couldn't have stopped a flinch if he'd tried.

Tiger climbed into bed, even though he mind whirred far too fast for sleep. Perhaps it would happen eventually. All he could do now was hope Helena figured something was wrong when he didn't appear for breakfast in the morning.

Sleep did not come easily, but he found it.

And then the door creaked open, and he lost it again. Tiger whirled out of bed, seizing the nearest object—a lamp—as a weapon.

“I'm not here to kill you,” came Helena's voice, as the door snicked shut again. “Put that thing down.”

Tiger slammed it back on the nightstand. “ _Yes_?” His patience had run out days ago, and that was before Helena had snuck into his room while he was trying to sleep. Never sneak up on a sleeping spy, even if Tiger did not consider himself much of a spy anymore.

“Gloria was coming to update you on Dick's condition,” she said. “She overheard Bannon speaking to you. We'll rearrange our plans. I'll assign Gloria to get Dick out of the cellblock as quickly as possible and meet with you at the extraction point, or on the way if you move quickly enough.” Tiger's room was on the other side of the extraction point, so they wouldn't miss each other. “She has already hidden his equipment in an adjacent cell and, if he is taken to the torture chamber, will provide him the means to free himself if Bannon attempts to kill or severely injure him.”

“How is he?”

“He woke briefly, coherent enough to understand what she said to him, but not in a condition to speak yet.” Helena pressed a copy of the keycard to Tiger's bedroom door into his hand. “Do not let them find that. Use it at 2100 hours.” When the attack would commence. Alia was expected half an hour after that. “If the time has to move forward, I will release you myself as soon as I have disabled the alarm system. Dick will need most of the day to recover enough to be worth interrogating, so he should not be in serious danger too early.”

Tiger hoped that would remain true. “Are you sure the agents we chose are loyal?”

“As sure as I can be in this business. Even if my assessment of the others is inaccurate, Gloria won't turn against me. Even if she wanted to, I know where her children live and have provisions in place should we not survive.”

Most other agents did not have loved ones who could be threatened like that. Once upon a time, Tiger had been one of them. Given what Dick had suffered because of him these past few days, maybe he should have stayed that way.

“Enough self-flagellation,” said Helena. “Go back to bed. We have a fight to win.”

* * *

Dick's head was killing him. Gloria had neglected to provide him pain relief all day, citing that it would be better if he remained useless until closer to go-time. It made sense to keep Bannon at bay, but Dick was fully prepared to jump out of his own skull. Even hearing Gloria's voice, soft as it was, had made him want to cry in agony. Sometimes Tim got these really bad migraines that knocked him flat for hours, though the severity had dropped off once he'd started taking medication—well, when he actually remembered to take it. Was this what it felt like? No wonder Bruce had benched him for a while.

Gloria's plan, as horrible as it was, apparently worked. Bannon didn't bother questioning him until well after dinner, when Gloria had finally relented and given him some pain relief.

“Where's Tiger?” Dick asked as Gloria led him—gently, by the elbow, like an old woman crossing the street—into the torture chamber.

“Bannon put him under house arrest,” Gloria said, quietly in deference to the lingering remnants of Dick's pain. “He doesn't suspect your ruse, but he also believes Tiger is too empathetic to tolerate your treatment for much longer.”

The bright lights of the chamber caused an explosion of more pain in Dick's head. Gloria led him to the chair.

“Close your eyes for a moment, dear.” The leather straps tightened around his legs. “Are these loose enough to allow for escape?”

Dick gripped the arms of the chair and kicked his legs forward, eyes open the tiniest amount to make sure he didn't hit Gloria. His ankles pulled free of the restraints. Gloria reset them and performed the same procedure on the wrist restraints until they were both satisfied he could force his way out if needed.

“Once the fighting starts, I'll come get you,” said Gloria. “Your equipment is hidden in the cell next to yours, beneath the bed. If Bannon attempts to kill or severely injure you, can you fight him?”

Days of torture, poor nutrition and yesterday's hell-machine had weakened him. But in this case, he would have the element of surprise if he played his cards right. Could he execute a headbutt without knocking himself out in this condition? He most likely would have to. He could possibly free one or two limbs before Bannon caught on, but he'd need the man distracted to do better than that.

Ideas were forming. The prospect of escape sharpened his mind.

“Yes,” he said. “Does he carry a gun?”

“Not while interrogating. He prefers a more personal touch.” Gloria smiled wryly. “I had a colleague like that once. Terrifying woman. She used to challenge the rest of the squad to fistfights. I only got out of it because I was their best medic and someone had to patch them up afterwards.”

“My kinda lady.”

“She would have hated you.”

“Some of my strongest friendships came from hatred.” The light wasn't killing him as badly now, but the throbbing was still there, an extra and unwanted heart living in his head.

Gloria shook her head at him. “I should leave. Only fight him if your life or fighting capability are in danger. Otherwise, I'll surprise him for you.” She pinched his cheek and left him in there alone.

So this was it. Soon, the fight would begin. Now he had to their endure Bannon one more time, or kick his sorry ass. Well, he had always hoped for the asskicking but he could wait if he had to.

Bannon arrived in short order, smiling as he often did. There was something particularly disturbing about it today, though. He wasn't just pleased he had a human chew toy. He was ecstatic. Hopefully not by having a human chew toy. Maybe he couldn't wait for Alia to get here. He could wait forever, as far as Dick was concerned.

“Today's a special day, Nightwing,” Bannon said fucking brightly, unrolling his leather toolkit of horrors.

“Is it your birthday? Gee, you should've told me. I would've gotten you something.” A boot in the ass, preferably. The night was still young.

“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised not even last night could fix your attitude.” Bannon plucked a set of brass knuckles from the kit. “If I could put you back in there right now, I would. Sadly, I have been informed that could kill you. Another day, perhaps, assuming the boss doesn't have something else in mind.” It didn't take a genius to figure out Alia would likely have Dick killed instead. He hadn't been a particularly cooperative informant, not with the big things that really mattered.

“Who is the boss anyway?” Dick asked. “Someone I've met before?”

“I believe you have, yes.” Bannon was outright grinning now, as he slid the brass knuckles onto his fingers. “I hear you know her quite well, actually. Or, rather, she knows you.”

Hopefully, Alia had not been exempt from the wipe that erased Dick's identity from the minds and databases of everyone who was not supposed to have that information. Hard to say. In any case, she had not shared any information with Bannon, assuming she even knew Dick was here yet.

“Now,” said Bannon, “you were very adamant that Batman does not know you are here. Is that still your answer?”

“Yes.” As if he was going to ruin everything now.

“Even now that you've had time to think about it?”

“Yes. Next question.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“ _Seriously_?” He may as well answer. It was the easiest question he was likely to get. “My head's killing me and your voice is even more grating than usual. No offense.”

“Neck pain?”

“A little. Not as bad as the head.”

“Weakness?”

“Some fatigue. You put me through the wringer even before that machine came into the picture.” It wasn't a good idea to telegraph exactly how much that had weakened him, though. If Bannon got too cocky, he might start fucking with Dick just for fun. Or just kill him if he didn't think he was useful anymore.

Had Dick been in a better condition, he probably would've noticed the fist coming before it hit, slamming and cutting his cheek. His head pounded so violently it was as if someone was beating him repeatedly with a hammer.

“How's the head now?” Bannon didn't have a fucking reason for that one. He just did it because he felt like it.

Fuck. His vision was swimming. And he kinda wanted to throw up.

Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—Dick was saved from answering when Bannon pressed a finger to a communicator in his ear. “Boss?”

Well, shit.

“Good to hear, ma'am. I have news. We captured Nightwing.”

Dick blinked profusely until his head cleared, just a little, and he braced his hands against the arms of the chair. If the kill order came, he would fight. Even if he'd rather curl up into a ball and cry.

“Shall I wait for your return? Okay. Will do, ma'am.” The grinned that stretched Bannon's face was the most sickening to date. “Bad news, prettyboy. The boss has decided you're far more useful to us dead than alive.” His hands came down on top of Dick's and he leaned in. “How shall we do this, hmm? Short and sweet? Long and painful? Perhaps I should fetch your lover, or do you think he sympathises with you a little too much?”

His head was just out of Dick's headbutt reach. Just a little closer...

“I suppose we could chain him up so he couldn't interfere even if he wanted to. What a tragic pair you two make. Betrayed for duty, and he can't even take pride in a job well done. I hear he used to be a fine agent, until you ruined him.” Bannon came closer. “I bet that was your plan all along.”

Dick reared back with all the strength he could muster and slammed his head into Bannon's, angling it best he could to make sure the thicker part of his skull made contact. Bannon recoiled, ramming into the instrument table, holding his nose, and Dick, his head screaming and reeling, wrenched his arms and legs out of their restraints.

He had to press his advantage while he still had one. He leapt at Bannon, ripping the brass knuckles from his slackened hand, and slammed them into his face.

Bannon got his fingers around Dick's weakened wrist and squeezed, forcing him to drop the knuckles. Dick pressed his free forearm to the man's throat, slamming his foot onto the hand on that side until he stopped trying to move it. Bannon released his other hand, choking loudly, and tried to pry Dick's arm away, but it was easy enough to shove it away with the hand he'd just freed. Dick had the stronger position, even if he was currently weaker. He pressed his whole body weight down.

But Bannon kept wriggling, coming close to dislodging him. This wouldn't have been a problem if it hadn't been for that machine last night.

Bannon managed to roll onto his stomach, but Dick stayed on him, wrapping both his arms tightly around the man's throat as he crawled on his stomach towards the instrument table, which had dropped all its implements on the floor, mostly on the other side except for the stun gun. Fuck. Dick couldn't let him touch that, but he was having little luck stopping him.

He had to think of something else. They were approaching arm's reach. Dick shifted his grip to Bannon's shoulders, his feet finding purchase on the back of the man's thighs, and shoved himself ahead, grabbing the stun gun. He rolled, clumsily, finding a kneeling position. Bannon got his hands under the table, reaching for something that glinted.

Dick shoved the stun gun against Bannon's neck and turned it on. He shrieked, arms flailing, body shaking. Dick felt with his free hand for the brass knuckles; just as well Batman had taught him how to punch with his left hand. He turned off the gun and slammed the knuckles into Bannon's temple.

Bannon went limp, but he would wake soon enough. Dick spied a set of handcuffs that had fallen off the table. Of course, now he had to drag Bannon somewhere he could use them. The chair was closest, and bolted into the floor. Dick secured one cuff around Bannon's wrist to free his hands, and got his hands under the man's armpits. He pulled. Bannon maybe moved an inch, if that. God damn it.

Dick pulled again. And again. He was already panting from the exertion but, little-by-little, Bannon slid in the direction he wanted.

Finally, he was close enough and Dick fed the cuff around the leg of the chair before securing the other cuff onto Bannon's remaining wrist. Bannon was already stirring, so Dick staggered out of the chamber, slamming the door shut.

He leaned against it for a second, catching his breath. Gloria had said his equipment was hidden under the bed in the cell next to his. Walking those few feet had him gasping for air all over again. He knelt on the floor beside the bed, uncertain he could even get up again, and slid his hand underneath until it hit a box. He dragged it out, lifting the lid. He'd missed that black and blue.

He dressed as quickly as he could while his body—head in particular—complained about what he had just done. In this condition, he had to find help, and quickly. Was it worth waiting in the cellblock for Gloria to find him, or would it be better to head to the rendezvous and meet her on the way?

What if one of Alia's agents decided to come down here to take him out as soon as the fighting started? Surely it couldn't be long now, if it hadn't already begun.

Dressed and equipped, Nightwing hauled himself into a seated position on the bed, catching his breath. He was weak and hurting, but at least he wasn't bleeding profusely or anything else that indicated he was about to die. He peered into the box, where Gloria had left one last thing:

One of Batman's low-dosage adrenaline injectors. Enough to help him get past the pain, but weaker than an EpiPen, which could cause health problems if used incorrectly.

Nightwing jammed it into his thigh. It wouldn't work for long, but at least it would get him on his feet. Now, to find Gloria before someone found him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape is on, but is Dick up to the task?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicidal ideation

Dick made it into the corridor outside the prison and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. He had to pace himself. The adrenaline would pass through his system eventually and he would pay for everything he put his body through. No need to make that worse than it was already going to be.

He slid his escrima from their holster on his back, taking a few practice swings to refamiliarse himself and get a handle on how best to use them in his condition. At this point, he'd likely have to fight defensively and wait for openings. He lacked the strength to overpower anyone.

No more delays. He edged along the wall, eyes and ears open despite the pounding in his head. Gloria had to be on her way by now. He just had to keep himself in one piece—or as close as he could get—until they met up.

His heartrate picked up every time he had to peek around a corner. The next one he faced could easily hold his salvation—or his downfall.

There were sounds of a scuffle up ahead. Dick raised his escrima and stayed hidden, prepared for the worst. A thud and a grunt. Possibly male. Assuming Gloria was in that fight, she was fine. But what if it had been a bat? Or Tiger?

“Whoever's hiding around the corner, you may as well show yourself.” Gloria's voice. Thank God. Dick rounded the corner and it took all his willpower not to sink to the floor in relief.

Gloria was dressed in the standard Spyral t-shirt and slacks today—unlike her usual business casual—and stood over another agent who lay facedown on the floor.

“Just a moment,” Gloria said, pulling open the nearest door. A cleaning closet. She dragged the unconscious man inside and shut the door, shearing the handle off with some kind of laser knife. “That should buy us some time. Did you restrain Bannon?”

“Until he gets himself uncuffed, yeah.”

“Then we better get moving.” Gloria stuck her laser _thing_ back on her belt and pulled Dick's arm over her shoulders. “How are you travelling?”

“Slowly.”

“Slow and steady wins the race, my dear.”

“I knew I should've asked that medical hallucination tortoise for pointers.”

Gloria's answering chuckle drilled into Dick's skull. Not a great omen for times ahead. Dick tried to use the wall instead of her whenever possible, just in case someone took them by surprise.

Gloria tapped an earpiece secured into her, well, ear. “Package acquired. On the way to rendezvous now.”

“I always knew I was a gift.” Even thinking up that line made his head hurt. Shame he was practically incapable of shutting up, even at the best of times.

Gloria smiled indulgently. “I'm in touch with Matron and your friends. We couldn't sneak Tiger a communicator, but his orders are clear. We'll either meet him at rendezvous or, if he's faster than us, he'll keep moving until he finds us.”

It was just as well Gloria knew where they were going, because every corridor looked exactly the same to Dick. He couldn't tell if it was his fried brain or the fact this building was created without any actual creativity.

Dick and Gloria pressed themselves up against a corner, listening for activity on the other side. How many corners did this one corridor have anyway? Gloria gently pushed Dick's shoulder against the wall, a silent signal to stay put. She peered around as she slid the handgun from the holster on her waist. Now wasn't the time for moralising about guns, even if Dick's conscience twinged.

Gloria slid out and Dick had to stop himself from holding his breath. A soft thud and Gloria gently called him out of hiding. She was already in the process of stuffing another unconscious agent into the nearest room.

“You're efficient,” Dick said, quieter than before. His head was getting worse.

“I never thought I'd be back in the field.” Gloria sliced the door handle off. “It's invigorating, but I'm ready to go back into retirement.” She holstered her gun. “Matron told me all about your aversion to guns, so don't worry. I'll only shoot if necessary. Hitting people with them is more fun anyway.”

They kept walking, Dick leaning more heavily on the wall with each step. His feet were heavier than he remembered and his skull was slowly shrinking, squeezing his brain like a sponge. If they didn't get to rendezvous soon, he was going to be in trouble.

“We don't have far to go,” Gloria assured him, but her voice was like a hammer right on his forehead. “Just keep moving.”

* * *

The attack had begun right on time and Tiger proceeded straight to the rendezvous point, where he found Jason tying up a pair of unconscious agents and shoving them in a closet.

“Got two presents waiting for you at rendezvous, boss,” Jason said into his communicator, kicking the door shut. “And they're not dead. I deserve a raise.”

“Batman does not pay you,” Tiger told him, checking the safety on the pistol he was carrying at his waist. The thing felt like it weighed a ton and he didn't want it. As soon as this fight was over, Jason could have it. He didn't care.

“Then he should start,” Jason replied. “Most of the fam is clearing the main entrance. Black Bat and I snuck through other entrances to clear a path to rendezvous. You met up with Nightwing yet?”

“No. Plans changed. A loyal agent should be with him.”

“Let's go find him, just in case.” Jason tapped the communicator in his ear. “Black Bat, I've cleared the rendezvous point and I'm going on ahead with Tiger to make sure Nightwing is in one piece. Hold the fort.” He listeneed for a moment, and then snorted. “It's a figure of speech. It means—never mind. Keep the rendezvous point clear. I'll see you soon.” He headed for the door on the opposite end of the room. “I've studied the blueprints your boss sent, but there's no substitute for first-hand knowledge.”

“Understood.” Tiger took point. The route to the cells was burned into his mind. He sometimes walked it in his dreams and it never ended happily. Jason had forgone his full helmet for a domino mask today. Tiger was glad for that. He needed a friendly face after everything that had happened these past few days.

“Bertinelli mentioned Nightwing wasn't in fighting condition,” Jason said.

“He was until last night.” Tiger didn't feel like elaborating.

“If we find Bannon on the way, I fully intend to shoot him.”

Helena's voice floated in from somewhere above them. “If I don't shoot him first.” She dropped down from a hole in the wall above them. “Secret passage.” She tossed Tiger an earpiece. “Gloria has confirmed Nightwing is with her and Bannon is at least temporarily restrained in the torture chamber.” She forged on ahead, not bothering to check if Tiger and Jason were following her. They were, for the record. When Matron led, you followed.

“What your group frequency?” Jason asked. Helena gave him a number and he passed it on to the other bats. “Helloooo, Nightwing?”

Dick's voice crackled to life in Tiger's ear, tired but _there_. “Hood, my head is hurting far too much to deal with that level of cheeriness.”

“Are you okay?” Tiger asked before Jason could be a smartass.

“Been better.”

“We're moving steadily,” Gloria added. “Where are you?”

“About halfway to your starting point,” Helena replied. “We should cross paths shortly. The most direct route is through the mission room, but it's a good place for an ambush so _be careful_.”

Nightwing snorted but groaned in pain immediately afterwards. “An ambush would be a waste. I'm not sure I can take the chivalrous types who formally announce themselves before punching me.”

“You keep complaining of a headache,” Gloria said. “Maybe you should stop talking.”

Jason snickered. Tiger was too worried to see the humour. Anything could go wrong. Dick and Gloria could be ambushed. A member of Dick's family could die. Bannon could overcome whatever restraints were keeping him out of the fight. Alia could come early and bring backup with her.

Batman's voice filled the line; he sounded different on the job, unlike most of Dick's family. “Entrance is clear. Proceeding to rendezvous. Red Robin, set those traps.”

“On it. If anyone comes through the front entrance, we'll know about it.”

“Black Bat, do you have the other entrances trapped?”

“Yes.”

Jason clapped his hands together. “All right. Let's pick up Nightwing and then we can sweep the facility for any agents we missed.”

“We've trapped a few in closets along the way,” said Gloria.

“She sheared off the door handles, so good luck getting to them,” added Nightwing.

“Whatever you used to do that, I want one,” said Jason.

“Focus,” Helena ordered. “Gloria, how close are you to the briefing room?”

“It's just up ahead.”

“Hole up in there until we get to you.”

Tiger was silently grateful Helena moved them faster. He was barely stopping himself from breaking into a run. Every moment he and Dick were separated felt like an invitation for something terrible to happen.

“We're in the briefing room,” said Gloria. “Wait. I think we were followed.”

“Move it!” Helena broke into a run. They turned a corner.

“We can seal—damn it!” Nightwing's voice was strained. “Gloria's down. Now it's just me and... _fuck_.” His voice shrank to a whisper. “Alia has a passenger. And here I thought we were finally done with Daedalus.” Then he was speaking loudly, barely concealing the panic in his tone. “Hey, dude. Long time no see. Did you do something with your hair?”

“Keep him talking,” Helena ground out. “We're nearly there.”

“She's not due for another fifteen minutes,” Tiger muttered.

“If Bannon isn't answering her calls, she may have known something was wrong.”

The door was just up ahead. Tiger caught a glimpse of black and blue, the swirl of a coat, before the door slid shut. Helena was too close to slow down and barely got her arms out before she slammed into it.

“You two, go around,” she ordered, digging her fingernails into the almost-invisible metal panel in the wall beside the door. “I'll try to get this thing open. Do whatever it takes once we get in there.” She tore a wire out. “You hear me? _Whatever it takes_.”

Tiger hadn't run this hard in a long time. He could only hope Dick could hold out.

* * *

Dick could barely recognise Alia behind the hat, sunglasses and coat. He supposed it wasn't really her anymore. Who knew how long she had been infected? Was there even a way to get Daedalus out of her at this point?

Gloria was lying facedown and unconscious in the middle of the room. She'd been taken by surprise, leaving Dick locked in a room with a dead supervillain supercharging the body of the woman who had once been Alia. And Alia hadn't been a pushover in the first place.

Helena was in his ear, telling him to stall Daedalus while she tried to get the door open. Finally, Dick's big mouth could do something useful. He'd been itching to thrash someone verbally the whole time he had been in this hellhole.

“How long have you been taking up space in her brain?” he asked Daedalus, who hadn't yet moved to take Dick out like he had with Gloria. “And not even paying rent. How rude.”

“Every good scientist needs a control.” Daedalus smirked, leaning on his cane. “I planted the seed long before you caught onto my plans with Helena Bertinelli.”

“I'm not sure that's how a control works.”

“Agent 8 has certainly given me valuable data on the degree of control I can achieve when _not_ pressed for time.”

“ _Yeah_ , I still don't think that's not how a scientific control works.” Dick leaned up against the desk that would usually be occupied by Spyral's director; he needed to lean on something but also couldn't risk looking too weak. “But I don't have a doctorate, so maybe I'm wrong.” He really needed to collapse on the floor, but that wasn't an option right now. “So, exactly how much control do you have over Alia? Is there any part of her left?”

Seeing Daedalus's creepy smile on Alia's lips was about as disconcerting as it had been on Helena's. “Planning a gallant rescue, are you? I hardly think you're in a position to save anyone.”

“Well, you know me. Hero complex and all that.”

“A fitting end for Nightwing, then.” Daedalus charged forward, swinging his cane. Dick dashed out of the way, avoiding the strike by inches. He was nowhere near fast enough for this.

“Really? That's your supervillain line?” Dick had to duck another swing. It wasn't even worth using his escrima, really, when he lacked the strength. He didn't have to win this fight; he just had to survive. “Alia, if you're in there, you can fight this. You don't have to do what he tells you to.”

“Alia is gone, Nightwing!” Daedalus managed to catch Dick's shoulder with the cane this time, and the pain that erupted almost made him black out where he stood. “But, by all means, keep appealing to a dead woman. It amuses me.”

Alia was not a good person. Dick knew this. But she didn't deserve to have her life end this way. No one did. Perhaps it would have been kinder to let Tiger shoot her, but he couldn't go back and change things now.

Dick slipped when he next dodged the cane, landing hard on his front. “Do you ever get tired of being such an asshole?” His right hand found a stapler. “You're nothing but a parasite. You can't even exist without sucking someone else dry!” He flung the stapler with all his might, which wasn't much, but it put Daedalus off-balance enough that Dick could find his feet again. His legs were shaking. He needed that door open _yesterday_.

“You're more right than you could even begin to imagine.” Daedalus twirled his cane once before tapping the base of it against the floor. “You see, Alia tried to fight me, much like you did. By the time she knew I was there, of course, it was too late. But I had to force control more _violently_ than I would have preferred, and I'm afraid she doesn't have much time left.”

“Serves you right,” Dick said viciously. He was sick of playing word games or pretending to let things slide off his back.

Daedalus's next strike took him by surprise, knocking the wind out of his abdomen. “How fortuitous, then, that I have you here in such a weakened state?”

The shaking was getting worse. Dick couldn't keep this up much longer. He batted the cane away and ducked out of range again, but he couldn't do this forever.

“You only infected me so easily last time because I let you.” Dick found a paperweight and hurled it at Daedalus's face, but Daedalus ducked this time. “I'm not feeling so charitable anymore.” He had no idea if he could back up his words with action, but he wasn't about to let his last act be one of meekness. If he was gonna die, he would go kicking and screaming.

Daedalus loomed closer and Dick braced himself to keep playing the most exhausting game of keep-away he would ever play in his life.“You are oddly defiant for a man barely able to stand.”

“Runs in the family.” Dick's vision was definitely swimming now and he did not need that. There were so many things wrong with him that he wasn't even feeling them all. The headache had somehow dimmed, but that didn't mean it was getting better. His brain was just trying to prioritise the worst of the pain.

What was taking Helena so long?

Apparently Daedalus could feel the threat of time himself, because he pulled out a pistol. “I heard interesting stories about your from Bannon.”

Dick couldn't afford to waste any more energy on chatting, so he made do with raising an eyebrow, brace to dodge at any moment.

“Apparently our fine Agent 1 lured you here. Or is that wrong? Perhaps it was your plan all along? One additional inside man to tip the odds in Batman's favour.”

Daedalus fired, but Dick was already throwing himself towards the desk. He wasn't strong enough to reach it in one go and his landing, sprawled on the ground, was less than graceful, but at least the bullet missed. He crawled for cover, plastering himself to the floor as another shot went off.

“I'm not doing to kill you yet, Dick Grayson. I need your body.”

Dick wondered privately if his body, as wrecked as it was from the torture, would be of any use to Daedalus anyway. But there was only one way to find that out and he wasn't about to allow it. No matter whether he won or lost, he was not going to let Daedalus possess him. He didn't have the strength to fight Daedalus off if he managed to get inside Dick's head. In the event of failure, that only left one option. An option he didn't want to take. To come this far, to survive this long, only to die with rescue right on the opposite side of the door would be such an awful end. But better that than possession.

Dick just had to fight with everything he had to avoid reaching that point, if he could. If Helena could just _get that door open_...

Daedalus's shots were getting closer, his cane landing more often. Dick was slowing down and there was nothing he could do about it. Gloria stirred the tiniest amount but fell still again. It was unlikely she was present enough to be any help anyway, given how long she had been out.

Dick had to keep flitting between the desk for cover and the rest of the room for space. He dived behind there once more, his arms giving out beneath him as he landed. The gun fired. A sharp pain exploded in his calf. Daedalus had shot through the tiny gap between the desk and the floor.

_Breathe through the pain. Ignore it. There's no time to nurse wounds. Get up. Get up._

Dick dragged himself to his feet but Daedalus was already upon him. The cane struck his shoulder, his gut, his head. He staggered and his legs went on strike, leaving him in a pile on the floor.

_Keep moving. Any way you can._

Dick shuffled backwards on his ass, even as Daedalus stepped closer. His head hit the wall. Hard. Pain rippled down from the top of his head, all the way down his neck and back. To his left was a corner, and Daedalus was angled just slightly to his right, cutting off that avenue of escape. Dick slumped against the wall. This was it.

Daedalus grinned down at him, prodding at the bleeding wound on Dick's leg with his cane. “Finally.”

Maybe Dick could get the gun off him. He probably wouldn't expect that, would he? Or at least get a grip on it so he could set it off. He couldn't hope to break Daedalus's grip outright. His only hope of survival lay in Helena getting that door open, but time was running out. He couldn't delay much longer.

“If you don't resist, you will survive longer,” Daedalus said.

A growl forced its way out of Dick's throat. “Me? Or _you_?” The exertion had robbed Dick of his oxygen, but he wasn't exactly using it to run around trying not to die so he may as well talk some more shit before committing to this.

Daedalus crouched before him, wisps of Alia's blonde hair falling in front of the glasses. “Now, stay very still and this will all be over soon.”

Then several things happened in quick succession. A whooshing of doors. Three voices. Three rapid bangs. Blood. Daedalus's weight collapsed onto Dick.

Heavy footsteps. Daedalus's weight gone. Dick was halfway across the room to Gloria on his hands and knees before his focus returned. Jason was crouched over Daedalus's—Alia's—body, holding two guns. One was identifiably his. The other was Spyral standard issue.

Time caught up. The doors at both ends of the room were open. Across the room, Helena was helping Gloria sit up. Dick was completely out of breath by the time he reached them.

Jason was talking. “If anyone asks, I borrowed your gun because one of mine jammed. Helena and I shot. You didn't.”

Tiger was leaning heavily against the doorframe closest to Jason, face ashen. “I do not want to—”

“Can it, Tiger. I'll take care of this. Go check on your boyfriend and stop him from breaking any more land speed records before we've stopped his bleeding.”

“Get over here, Tiger,” Helena ordered, probing the growing lump on the back of Gloria's head. Gloria was conscious now, at least, even if she wasn't as alert as Dick would have liked.

Tiger unfroze and dashed across the room, whipping a bandage and a sterile wipe from his pocket. “Give me your leg.”

“Hello to you, too.” The wipe stung like nobody's business and Dick absolutely saw stars for a few moments there. Then it was over and the bandage was around his calf. Apparently the bottom of his pants had been ripped off at some point without Dick noticing. He wasn't noticing a lot of things at the moment.

Then his face was smushed against Tiger's chest, the man's frantic voice in his ear. “Jaanaana. Focus. Are you injured anywhere else?”

Breathing was difficult, but Dick couldn't tell if that was Tiger's grip, his own exhaustion, a potential lung injury—please no—or the sheer relief that he had been rescued.

“Everywhere,” he managed, pulling back to watch Jason, who was still crouched over Alia/Daedalus. “Spyral's gunpowder is different from yours, Jay. Think of the gunshot residue.”

“Good point.” Jason then fired Tiger's gun and his own into the body. “Problem solved.”

“How are we dealing with the residue on Tiger?” There was something to be said for concern about a loved one that could sharpen the mind and dull pain.

“Do not help him do this, Dick,” Tiger said through his teeth.

Jason responded as if Tiger hadn't spoken. “Well, he's covered in blood so as long as we make sure to get rid of his clothes and he washes thoroughly before Bruce can even think to test him, we can make it work.”

“And that will not make him suspicious at all,” Tiger muttered. You knew things were bad when he of all people resorted to sarcasm.

“Suspicion is better than knowledge.” Jason holstered both guns. “Listen. We're doing this for a reason. You did the right thing, but you know how the big guy is.”

Tiger's voice dropped so low even Dick had to strain to hear it. “What if it wasn't the right thing?”

“Alia was possessed for a long time, T,” Dick said. “It wasn't her anymore.” He had to pause for breath, holding up his hand to stop Tiger from cutting him off. “If you three hadn't shot, that could've been me.” It wasn't a great idea to mention he'd planned to shoot himself with Daedalus's gun to avoid that. So he kept that to himself. Talking was getting harder anyway. Air. A marching band pounding on his head. A stinging gunshot wound. A bone-deep weariness that threatened to drag him under if he let his guard down for a second.

“Tiger,” said Gloria, rubbing her forehead vigorously as if that alone would chase away the possible concussion. “You did the right thing. There was no time for a more elegant solution.”

“If there even was one,” Helena added. “Don't drown yourself in guilt for doing what you had to do. In fact, that's my final order as Matron. As soon as everything in this building is destroyed, we're free. Don't waste that.”

“Listen to the boss,” said Jason.

Tiger gazed for a long moment at Alia's body. Then he sighed so deeply that he seemed to deflate. “We should get back to rendezvous.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a rough ride. As everyone slows down in the wake of the past week, dark feelings rise to the surface.
> 
> I don't like this summary. I'm sorry. That's what we're getting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! I've been working on one of my original novels the past few months. Finally managed to finish the first draft. Damn thing was in first person, mostly present tense, so getting back into the third person past tense of my fics was a little bit nightmarish. I'm leaving the draft to rest for a bit so I'm hoping to get a few fic updates out before I touch it again.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS:  
> Loved ones in medical danger & requiring hospital treatment, not knowing if the loved one is going to survive. I'm going to put a more specific warning in the endnote, so if you have a trigger for this, please read that. It's slightly spoilery so that's why I'm putting it down there.

Helena took point for the journey to the rendezvous point with Jason watching for attacks from the rear. Tiger was sending updates to Batman, who had successfully taken over the facility. The rest of the family had dispersed throughout the building, collecting prisoners now that the immediate danger had passed. No one had come to an agreement about what to do about them yet.

Dick leaned heavily on Tiger while Gloria stuck to the wall, unsteady but moving. Walking was hell. Dick's legs didn't want to support his weight, even without the bullet wound in his right calf. But clinging to Tiger was exhausting in itself and his arms were already shaking. Symptoms were slowly trickling back now that the fight was over. His vision kept swimming and his head kept throbbing and his neck felt like the victim of a bad acupuncture session.

“This is not working,” Tiger said. “We need to stop.”

Helena paused. “Make it quick.”

“You should stop walking,” Tiger said to Dick, lifting him into his arms.

“I swear everyone I've dated has done this at least once,” Dick semi-complained. In all honesty, though, he was just glad Tiger had saved him from admitting defeat a few metres later anyway.

“How are you, Gloria?” Tiger asked.

“Sweet of you to ask, but I'll be fine. We should keep moving.”

Dick rested his head against Tiger's shoulder. Even though Tiger took great pains not to jostle him, every step was like a hammer against his brain. Now would be a great time to go to sleep and get away from this, but he had hit his head a few times today so it probably wasn't the best idea until Alfred could examine him. Damn it.

They passed into a room. The light was too bright. Dick squeezed his eyes shut.

“We have injured,” Helena said. “How close are we to extraction?”

Then came the voice Dick had been wishing he could hear for days. “We need time to clear out any remaining resistance,” Batman said. “Is immediate attention required?”

“No one is about to die,” Helena replied, “but sooner is preferable.”

“We'll need a few more minutes to secure safe passage. I'll send Red Robin and Batgirl to Gotham with the injured as soon as possible.” A gloved hand grasped Dick's, who reluctantly opened his eyes, just a touch, to take in the concerned set of Batman's mouth beneath the cowl. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Light hurts.”

“There is a small office in the corner. It should be darker in there.” Batman called for Red Robin to move blankets they had collected into the office. There were enough that Tim was practically invisible behind them. Seeing a pile of floating blankets did nothing to improve Dick's opinion of his own health.

But, soon enough, he was lying on a stack of them behind the desk in the office, largely shielded from the light of the next room. Gloria was set up on the other side, closer to the door, since she didn't seem quite as sensitive.

Dick rested his hand over his eyes, letting out a long breath. The worst was over, and the rest would be done in a matter of minutes. Then he could go home and deal with whatever the fuck was happening to him.

Tiger squeezed his wrist. “Do not fall asleep yet, jaanaana.”

“I know, I know.”

Tiger let him go and there was a shift in light Dick barely noticed through his closed eyelids, but Tiger was definitely moving away from him.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I should help Batman lock down the facility.”

“Unarmed?” came Jason's voice.

Tiger sighed. “I'll need my gun back.”

Dick wanted to stop him, but had no idea how to do that without sounding needy. He hated that feeling. He wrestled with that in every relationship he'd had. He could sometimes be suffocating and too intense and just _too much_. No one knew how to handle him, least of all Dick himself.

Fortunately, Jason was fighting on his behalf. “We've got it handled, dude.”

“Is anyone watching the front entrance?”

“Red Robin's traps have got it covered.”

“Just give me the gun.”

Jason sighed. “If you insist.”

Then Tiger was gone.

“Maybe he just needs a few minutes,” Jason said. “It's been a long couple months.”

“I need a few minutes for my head to stop murdering me anyway,” Dick said. Then he fully intended to go after Tiger because fuck this insecurity bullshit. He had every right to be needy after everything he'd been through. He just had to figure out how to drag his wounded ass to the front of the building.

The sounds of activity in the other room were slightly muted, but Dick could pick up a few snatches of conversation. Tim and Barbara were discussing data with Helena. Jason was guarding an entrance to the room and Steph the other. Cass and Damian were sneaking up on stragglers together. Bruce was coordinating everything.

Barbara ducked in to shine a light in Gloria's eyes to make sure she didn't have something worse than a concussion. “No pupil contraction,” she said. “You should be okay, but we have a friend in Gotham who can perform a more thorough exam.”

“I can't see Batman letting her in the cave,” Dick replied.

“He's not. Leslie's on standby at her clinic.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” Dick couldn't wait for Alfred to clear him for sleep. His body was absolutely done with him.

“Just lie there and look pretty, okay?”

“Will do.” For now. Just being horizontal was doing wonders for his entire body, especially his head. There was still a good old-fashioned marching band wrecking the joint, but at least the drummers had calmed down a little.

Barbara left them to rest. Dick felt well enough to push himself into a sitting position. He rested against the wall while his head protested. He breathed through it.

Bruce and Jason were talking nearby, voices hushed. But Dick and Gloria were nowhere near as loud as everyone else, so the sound reached them anyway.

“What happened in there?” Bruce asked.

“That Daedalus guy,” Jason replied. “He'd taken over that agent's mind. Nightwing called her Alia. I think Helena called her Agent 8 in the briefings she sent.”

Bruce's glare was almost audible. He didn't need to ask why there was a dead Spyral agent.

“Daedalus was literally about to take over Nightwing's mind,” Jason said. “There was no time to waste, so Helena and I shot him. Alia was long gone.”

More silent glaring.

“You wanna hate me? Fine. Nightwing's alive because we chose his life over a dead woman's possessed corpse.”

Technically true, but maybe a little harsh.

“...where was Tiger in all this?”

“With me.”

“Why didn't he shoot? Since you insist it was the only option.”

“One of my guns jammed. He lent me his.”

Dick reached up and got a grip on the desk, pulling himself to his feet. Jason was good, but Bruce was a master of making people confess the truth. They'd committed to this path. If Bruce even got a hint that Jason was lying to protect Tiger, things would be much worse than they would have been if he'd admitted Tiger shot in the first place.

Dick made it to the doorframe, light hitting him in the face. Not great for the headache. He reached for the brightness setting on his mask and tinted his lenses, which helped a little.

“Where is he now?” Bruce asked.

“Watching the front entrance,” Jason replied.

“Fetch him. Red Robin and Batgirl are taking our injured to Gotham in a few minutes.”

“Let me handle that,” Dick said. Neither Bruce nor Jason seemed surprised to see him; it wasn't like he was trying to be sneaky.

“Lie back down,” Bruce replied.

“Yeah, that's not gonna work,” Jason said.

“Let's be honest here,” Dick said. “Alf's gonna have me glued to bed as soon as I get to the Batcave. He will probably drug me. I need to sort a few things out with Tiger, preferably one-on-one and before I'm high on pain meds.”

“We are morally obligated to respect the injured guy's wishes, you know.” Jason patted Bruce's shoulder and joined Dick in the doorway. “I'll help you get down there if you're sure you're up to it.”

“I have a limited window of time. So quit asking questions and help me already.”

Jason bent down and let Dick put an arm over his shoulders. “Of course, your majesty.”

* * *

Tiger had found himself a quiet spot near a window that gave him the best view of the gravel road leading away from the building. He wanted more than anything to leave this place, but the best he could do until then was find a few moments to himself. The gun felt heavy in his hand as he leaned against the wall, letting his arm hang loosely by his side, barrel pointed towards the floor. He wanted to throw it. He had to keep reminding himself that was a bad idea. He had no idea how Dick threw loaded guns without accidentally shooting himself, but he certainly wasn't about to attempt it. No matter how much he wanted it gone.

It was worrying to think that, only a few months ago, he had been so determined to find Alia and eliminate the threat she posed. The memory felt like it belonged to a different person. He was never going to enjoy her death, but the man he once had been would have shed a few tears for her and then moved on, confident in the knowledge that he had done what was necessary.

Now, it seemed he questioned everything, even the things no one else struggled with. Dick and Helena had been so doggedly determined throughout this past week, even as Tiger wavered. He had once been so confident in his actions. The man he was now couldn't have spent years infiltrating a rival spy organisation, doing everything necessary to climb the ranks and become entrusted with the kind of information he needed to keep Spyral from threatening the world.

The past few months had been difficult enough. This past week, even more so. He still hated himself for bringing Dick into this. They didn't know about that machine, or that Daedalus had taken over Alia's body, but he couldn't stop thinking he never should have even considered involving him. Helena thought Dick had provided a useful distraction for Bannon so she could search for intel, but was that really worth it?

That torture machine caused lasting medical problems. Dick could never be the same again. And it was Tiger's fault for being so weak, so desperate to have Dick close while he and Helena pulled the scraps of Spyral apart.

If this wasn't the end of Spyral now that Daedalus was gone (hopefully), then everything Dick went through would have been pointless. At least if they managed to destroy Spyral, some good would have come out of Dick's suffering. Even if he didn't think it was truly worth it.

“Hey, handsome.”

Tiger flinched more than he would have liked, jerking his head to find Dick approaching him slowly, mouth stretched in a thin smile that did not hide his pain as much as he probably hoped it did. Jason watched them from the nearest doorway before he shrank away.

Dick leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the window. Poor visibility there, but it wasn't like Dick was in any condition to do much anyway.

“You should be resting,” Tiger said, quashing a surge of annoyance that Dick was pushing himself now that his fight was over.

“Tim and Babs are taking us and Gloria back to Gotham soon,” Dick said, evidently ignoring what Tiger had said. “I wanted some one-on-one time while I'm still mostly coherent, because you bet Alfred's gonna drug me six ways from Sunday.”

“What does that even _mean_?”

Dick shrugged. “Idiom. Doesn't matter. The point is, I wanna take advantage of my brief burst of lucidity before either pain or drugs take my brain for a ride.”

Tired, shaking, in visible pain and Dick was still playing with the English language in ways that should have been illegal. So he really was quite coherent.

Tiger gestured vaguely to the window. “I am working.”

“Yeah, you looked so focused with the way you were glaring at the floor.”

Tiger came perilously close to snapping at him. He took a deep breath and tried to blow all his misplaced frustration out on the exhalation.

“There is a lot on my mind,” he admitted.

Dick rested his head against the wall, his face twisting for the barest of moments before he smoothed it out again. “We couldn't have anticipated things would go like this.”

Tiger had a sudden urge to deny he was thinking about that, purely out of frustration that Dick had so easily dug into his thoughts. The man was supposed to be resting, but he was on his feet with Tiger, thinking about him rather than his own health. That was infuriating. Even more infuriating was the fact he just _knew_ Dick wouldn't listen if he tried to tell him to worry about himself.

“It is our job to anticipate as many worst-case scenarios as possible,” Tiger muttered.

“So, you're telling me we should've anticipated the existence of a mysterious torture machine that isn't supposed to exist, and that a murderous ghost dude we thought was gone was just gonna show up in the body of your ex-partner?”

The absurdity of this whole situation was beginning to give Tiger a headache of his own.

“I'm sorry about Alia,” Dick said quietly.

“I'm the one who—”

“Shh!”

Something else Tiger was not happy about. They were lying for him. He helped kill Alia and they were hiding it so Bruce wouldn't have cause to throw Tiger to the wolves, even if he deserved it.

“Look,” Dick said, “we can't talk about everything right now. But we will. This is the best thing for everyone, okay? Please trust us.”

Tiger didn't want to leave Dick again. He had to hold onto that. They had spent more than enough time apart. Thinking about it left a sick feeling in Tiger's stomach that he did not want to examine.

“I don't like it,” Tiger admitted. “But it is done. I have no choice.”

Dick sighed, and his calm mask slipped just enough to betray the utter exhaustion lying underneath. “Okay. I can work with that.” He smiled weakly. “I love you.” He reached for Tiger's hand. “Come on. We're leaving soon. I also might need help walking. I mean, despite my rugged good looks, I'm actually wiped right now.”

“Yes. I definitely had not noticed that.”

Jason stepped out from wherever he'd been hiding, holding out his hand. Tiger passed him the gun, pushing down the immense relief he felt now that he no longer had to carry it.

“Get back to rendezvous,” Jason said. “I'll take it from here.”

* * *

Barbara took Gloria to a Wayne family friend for medical treatment while Tim took Tiger and Dick to the batcave. Alfred had already prepared a bed in the med bay. Tim helped Tiger get Dick sitting on it before heading out to work on the computer.

“You can remain for a moment,” Alfred said to Tiger, reaching for a tiny flashlight. Tiger crammed himself into a corner, arms crossed, hoping that would be enough to stay out of the way when all he wanted to do was curl up around Dick and go to sleep with him.

“Light hurts,” Dick said quietly. He listed in the seat a little and Tiger expected him to fall. He caught himself, but it took him a while to straighten up properly.

“I am sorry, sir. I need to check your eyes.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

Alfred shone the flashlight into each of Dick's eyes while Dick dug his fingernails into the leather gurney and visibly tried not to flinch.

“Hm.” Alfred tapped a note into the computer nearby. “You have unequal pupil dilation, sir. We'll need to isolate the cause.”

“Did Tim send you any data?” Tiger asked. “Dick was subjected to a machine that causes long-term medical problems.”

Alfred clicked around. “Ah. Here we are.”

Dick was swaying a little again. Tiger gave into the urge to steady him. Dick rested his head on Tiger's supporting arm. He leaned more heavily against him with every passing moment Alfred spent reading the files Tim had sent him.

Dick mumbled something that Tiger couldn't understand. He tried again:

“Idonfeelright.”

“You don't feel right?”

Dick nodded weakly.

Alfred stepped away from the computer. “Let's get you lying down, sir. We can do a preliminary brain scan here, but we may need to commandeer a hospital's equipment for an in-depth diagnosis.”

Dick tried for a smile, but only one half of his face cooperated. Tiger's blood turned to ice.

No. No, no, no.

Did they even have the resources to treat a stroke?

Tiger and Alfred got Dick lying down. Dick was too weak to offer assistance. His right side seemed unwilling to cooperate.

Dick shut his eyes, face only half-twisting with apparent discomfort. He didn't try speaking again.

“I can take it from here, Master Tiger,” Alfred said, pulling a machine from the ceiling that hid the cave from view. The machine was a huge white arm with a box on the end that had a half-cylindrical piece cut from it. Tiger had never seen such a machine before and had a sneaking suspicion it was not a standard piece of medical equipment used in hospitals that had entire rooms for brain-scanning equipment.

“Are you sure? I can... hold things.” Tiger absolutely did not want to leave Dick in this condition. If this really was a stroke, it could be fatal. He wanted to punch himself for not insisting they get Dick medical attention sooner. He hadn't seemed in immediate danger. If that decision killed the man he loved...

“I'm sure.” Alfred pressed buttons on some kind of box machine that started a whirring in the arm-end. “There are snacks in the kitchen. Eat something. Rest if you can.”

Dick held out his good left hand, giving Tiger's a squeeze before pulling away. Tiger got the message. This was up to Dick and Alfred now.

“It may not be a stroke, sir,” Alfred said as Tiger forced himself to back away. “There are other medical conditions that cause similar symptoms. Do not panic.”

Tiger didn't have it in him to speak. He swallowed around the lump quickly forming in his throat, nodded curtly, and stepped outside. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it.

He was panicking. Definitely panicking. Dick could be having a stroke. Dick could be dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

“How is he?” Tim called from across the cave. Tiger took a few quick breaths—shallower than he wanted—and joined him at the computer. Tim shoved out a wheeled stool for him.

“We don't know yet,” Tiger said, slumping onto the seat. Talking hurt. Thinking hurt. “Fatigue. Unequal pupil dilation. Speech difficulties. Weakness on one side of the body.”

Tim had changed out of his uniform into civvies—a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants that looked older than Damian. A pair of glasses was set on his nose as he squinted at the data flitting across the computer screen.

“Okay, so, I think we both know the obvious possibilty,” Tim said, with an even tone Tiger envied. “If it's a stroke, we'll deal with it. People survive strokes all the time. It could also be something else. Some migraines do that.” Tim pushed his glasses further up his nose with a finger, offering Tiger a serious look that was somehow reassuring in the fact he wasn't trying to feign a lack of concern. Tim was as calm as possible without being in denial. Tiger appreciated that.

“I didn't take you for an optimist.”

“I'm not.” Tim refocused on the screen, tapping the keys every so often. Tiger had no idea what he was doing. “Listen. I get migraines sometimes. Not the type Dick might have, but I did plenty of research on the various types when trying to figure out what the heck was wrong with me. Bruce benched me for a bit when they got bad, but I got medication and function pretty well most of the time now. Whatever is happening with Dick, we'll handle it. We always do.”

“You still sound like an optimist.”

“In this family, it's more like stubbornness. Examine all the options, prepare for the worst, hope for the best. It's all you can do sometimes.”

There was something soothing in listening to Tim talk like this. They'd never spent as much time together as some of the others, but Tiger had always liked him. Matter-of-factness was more comforting than empty platitudes.

Of course, that didn't mean Tiger was going to stop panicking. His heart pounded something terrible and his throat hurt. He was also probably shaking but didn't want to check his hands to make sure.

Tim let Tiger sit there while he worked. Tiger wanted to pace around and probably throw things, but that would require energy he did not have. One part of him longed for sleep. The rest of him was too restless to even consider it until he knew whether Dick was going to be okay.

They'd been through so much. Dick had been through so much. He couldn't lose him now. What would he even do if Dick died tonight? Tiger had dragged out every ounce of strength he had and shoved it into getting them home safely. He had nothing left. He couldn't take one more piece of bad news. Not tonight. Possibly not ever.

Tiger didn't know how long he sat there, before a roaring sound echoed through the cave.

“That'll be the fam,” Tim said, swivelling in his chair. They watched the batmobile and a fleet of motorcycles roll in from the deeper recesses of the cave and park on a wide platform that held a few other vehicles in various states of disrepair.

Bruce and Damian hopped out of the car. Jason and the girls swung themselves off motorbikes. By the time they reached Tim and Tiger, cowls and masks had been discarded and other various accessories—mainly gloves—were in the process of doing the same.

“Snacks are upstairs,” Tim told the group, who all headed for the stairs except for Bruce.

“Report,” Bruce said. His hair was moulded to his head with sweat.

“Gloria has a concussion,” Tim replied. “Barbara's keeping an eye on her at one of our safehouses tonight. If there are no complications, Helena will get her home tomorrow.”

“And Dick?”

“We don't know yet.” Tim paused for a moment, face grim. “There have been some... complications. Alfred hasn't given any updates so far.”

“What kind of complications?”

“Fatigue, speech difficulties, weakness in one side of the body.” Tim listed the symptoms without inflection. Tiger could feel a swell of anxiety rise in the boy next to him, before he beat it back. “We don't know the cause yet.”

Tiger was grateful no one had tried speaking to him. He wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth. Sobbing, most likely.

Bruce sighed, unlatching his cape from the rest of his uniform. “He's strong. If anyone can survive this, it's him.” There was something about his voice that almost made that sound believable.

Tiger bit his own finger to stop himself from bursting into tears.

Jason came back down the stairs. “If you three want anything to eat, you better get up here now.”

Tiger's stomach felt like knives. Eating was the last thing on his mind. Maybe he could drink some water and try to take his mind off Dick for a moment. That second thing was unlikely but at least he could try.

Bruce stayed downstairs to update computer files based on intel received from Spyral, but Tim and Tiger both followed Jason into the manor.

The rest of the family was standing around the kitchen benches, munching on sandwiches and cookies and fruit and a vegetable platter. Jason shoved Tiger towards the food, so he grabbed a tiny stick of celery. Celery was close enough to water that maybe he wouldn't feel sick eating it.

Cass offered him a reassuring pat on the arm, but mercifully did not attempt to hug him. Embarrassed that she had read him so well, but relieved that she could, he gave her a nod. Smiling was beyond him in that moment.

Tim told the group about Dick's condition. Possibly because they were tired after a long night, everyone quietly absorbed the information and kept eating. Tiger was also grateful for that. He was barely holding together. He did not need sympathy. He kept his gaze on the counter so he wouldn't make eye contact with anyone.

Tiger ate his celery as slowly as possible, but there came a point where to continue gnawing on a piece the size of his thumbnail would stick out as particularly ridiculous. Jason shoved a glass of water into his hand instead.

Most of them were still wearing their earpieces. Bruce's voice crackled to life in Tiger's ear.

“I have an update from Alfred,” he said. “No blood clot in the brain. Dick is not having a stroke. He is in severe pain, so it would appear that he has a particular type of migraine.”

The room collectively exhaled. Stephanie quickly passed the information to Damian, who was the only person not still wearing his earpiece. The group gradually began to trickle out for showers and bed. Tiger stayed put, sipping his water slowly. If he made any sudden moves, he definitely would start crying.

Jason stayed with him. “You'll be pleased to know Helena blew up the place, with a few extra explosives in that torture machine for good measure once she'd extracted all the data from it. She's hanging out in Gotham until Gloria's up to travelling. Don't know what she plans after that.”

Tiger shrugged. Helena had been tight-lipped about what she wanted once Spyral was no longer a threat. St Hadrian's still existed. It was a school as well as a headquarters. Perhaps Helena could shut the school down or replace all the staff and change it into something less espionage-oriented. Tiger didn't much care at this point.

“You've totally got a right to freak out, you know.” Jason leaned against the counter, ducking his head into Tiger's line of sight. “You've been through a lot.”

“I'll consider it once I've seen Dick,” Tiger said, draining the last of his water. He wasn't sure when Dick would be well enough for visitors. Migraines could last hours. He didn't want to make it harder on him just to satisfy his own anxiety.

His earpiece crackled and Alfred's voice floated in. “Master Tiger, do you have a moment?”

Tiger's heart jittered in his chest, which was simply ridiculous. This was not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe Dick was feeling better.

“Yes?” Tiger managed to keep his voice relatively even, but Jason still gave him a look.

“Master Dick is asking for you.”

“Is he well enough?”

“No, but he insists.”

Tiger felt a surge of warmth, tempered by frustration. Happy that Dick wanted to see him, but not so happy he was going to make himself feel worse just to have a few moments with him.

“I'm on my way,” Tiger said.

“What's up?” Jason asked.

“Dick is in no condition for visitors,” Tiger replied, rinsing his glass out in the sink. “But he wants to see me anyway.”

“Classic Dick.” Jason waved him on. “Go forth, my friend.”

“Never speak like that again.”

Jason snickered, shoving Tiger towards the door. “Get outta here.”

Tiger headed back to the batcave. Bruce was still working on the computer, but a sandwich had appeared beside him. Either Alfred was, in fact, a superhero who could be in two places at once, or someone else had brought it to him.

Alfred was waiting outside the door to the med bay. He beckoned Tiger over and said, in a low voice, “He is sensitive to light and sound, sir. Be careful.”

“I'll be quiet.”

“Only a few minutes. Then he needs to rest.” Alfred opened the door, waiting in the doorway while Tiger crossed to the bed in the middle of the med bay.

Dick was laid up on his back, a dark sleeping mask over his eyes. Alfred had covered him with soft blankets with a damp towel on his forehead.

The fingers on Dick's right hand twitched a little. “Tiger?” His face pinched with pain best it could, his right side moving the tiniest amount. The paralysis didn't seem has complete as it had before, but it was still there.

Tiger gently took his hand, running his thumb over Dick's knuckles. He wasn't entirely sure how much Dick could feel, but apparently it was enough. Dick let out a breath and sank a little into the pillow. He was still holding himself tightly, tensing every so often.

Dick squeezed his hand. There was no strength in it. Tiger brushed his lips against his knuckles and Dick managed a small smile.

Alfred put his hand on Tiger's shoulder, nodding towards the door. Tiger gave Dick's hand one more kiss and gently laid it back down, stroking his knuckles as he worked up the willpower to leave.

Then he left Dick to rest, hoping the pain would be gone by the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
>  Just some filler so you don't accidentally read the end of the chapter.  
> .  
> .  
> OKAY SO here's the specific warning:  
> Loved ones (apparently) having a stroke. This happens in the third scene when Dick, Tiger and Tim return to the batcave.
> 
> If this is a massive trigger, I will give a bare-bones but spoilery summary of that scene below:
> 
> Dick, Tim and Tiger get back to the batcave. Alfred starts treating Dick while Tim goes to work on the batcomputer. Dick exhibits worrying symptoms. Tiger leaves to let Alfred examine him. Tim tries to reassure Tiger that, whatever the problem is, they'll do everything they can to do deal with it.
> 
> The rest of the fam return (minus Barbara, who is watching over Gloria at a safehouse). They hang out in the kitchen, except Bruce who stays downstairs. Bruce tells everyone over the communicator that Dick is not having a stroke. He's experiencing what appears to be a particular kind of migraine and is still in a lot of pain.
> 
> Tiger gets to visit Dick and holds his hand for a bit, but doesn't stay long because Dick needs to rest.
> 
> The chapter ends there.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Tiger get some much-needed time together. Now that immediate danger is over, however, Tiger has far too much time to overthink things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think there are any particularly common triggers, but Tiger isn't in a great space mentally and Dick is still experiencing those symptoms (but they know why now so no more panicking).
> 
> Hopefully my source on language stuff was correct. I think the spelling is sometimes a bit different. Fewer a's. Anyway, hope it's right or I'm gonna hate myself making that a plot point.

Tiger was sorely tempted to sleep in his clothes, but Jason stopped him in the hallway right outside Dick's bedroom in the manor. Tiger supposed it was also his own room, but it was strange to think of that after being absent for months.

“Give me your clothes,” Jason said.

“What?” Tiger was too tired for this.

Jason leaned in, whispering so quietly Tiger could barely hear him. “Go put on a towel or something and give me your clothes. I need to get the evidence off. Then you need to have a year-long shower or something so we can be sure there's no evidence left on you.”

“I am not getting naked in front of you.”

“Half-naked, more like.”

He was missing the point on purpose. Tiger stared him down.

Jason snorted. “Fine, fine. You can hand me your shit through the door.”

Tiger rolled his eyes and stepped into the bedroom to strip off to his underwear, throwing clothes at Jason through the tiniest opening he could manage without jamming his own fingers.

“Dick never mentioned you were shy,” Jason teased.

“It is called modesty. Have you not heard of it?”

Jason laughed at him, his voice shrinking as he moved away. Was it really common to simply... walk around shirtless in front of people you were not intimate with? Or was it simply a characteristic of this highly unusual family?

Tiger was never going to find out. He didn't really want to. Modesty was sometimes impossible while in the spy world. Wearing the lungee helped, but he had fallen out of the habit recently. He would have to start again. He had left one of them in this room when he'd left. Perhaps it was still there... unless Dick had taken it with him to his apartment.

Tiger washed his hands thoroughly before searching, finding it folded neatly in a drawer. Dick mustn't have touched it. The man never folded anything neatly if he could help it. If that was there, then maybe his Quran was... ah. There it was. On the sparse bookshelf in the corner of the bedroom. It had been a simple enough task to clear a shelf so it could have a place by itself. Most of the books Dick had were old schoolbooks or romance novels with swooning maidens and oddly attractive noblemen. And a few circus arts photo books.

Tiger was suddenly grateful he hadn't had much time to pack when Bruce forced him to leave. Helena had returned the spare Quran to him that he had originally left at St Hadrian's. He wasn't sure where it was now. Helena might have taken his things with her before she detonated the explosives. He had been... preoccupied at the time.

The anxiety that had plagued him all day still had its claws in him. He wouldn't be able to sleep in this state. Well. He needed to wash up anyway, and he had not yet given his final prayer for the night, preoccupied as he was by the escape and Dick's subsequent brush with death.

Tiger showered, washing himself thoroughly, and took the ritual washing steps required for prayer at the end. Then he dressed and wound the lungee onto his head. His Quran hadn't collected much dust. Someone must have kept it clean for him. Damian, most likely. Dick had left the manor at some point after Tiger had.

Praying helped, like it usually did. It calmed him, even if the feeling of the anxiety ebbing left him exhausted. It had been a difficult day. He had earned that.

The calm carried him to sleep, but not so well that dreams did not haunt him. He woke breathless, disoriented, heart pounding but unable to remember why. There was a strange feeling of dread in his stomach and he felt around for Dick's presence. He wasn't there. Why wasn't he there?

Tiger curled up, breaths hissing ineffectively in and out. Do not panic. Where was Dick? He had the distinct feeling he had forgotten something.

Wait. Dick was fine. He was in the batcave med bay, fighting a migraine. Well, _fine_ was perhaps inaccurate. But he was not in danger.

Tiger sat up, putting his head between his knees until he could breathe again. He reached over and found the digital clock Dick kept hidden in a drawer because the light annoyed him. It was after two in the morning. He had slept only a couple hours.

He needed some time to calm down. He couldn't remember his dreams this time, thankfully, but there was an empty feeling that made him think they had something to do with losing Dick. He needed to see him or he would not be sleeping more tonight.

He hoped Dick was asleep or at least feeling better. Tiger found a ridiculous fluffy bathrobe Dick owned but never wore and a pair of socks that held the cold at bay, just a little bit. The wooden floors of the hallway outside the bedroom still chilled the soles of his feet, so he moved faster, grateful no one was awake to see him slipping around like a foal.

He almost expected to see Bruce at the computer in the batcave, but apparently the man did sleep sometimes. Once every year, perhaps?

There were soft voices behind the door to the med bay. Someone was awake. Tiger gently tapped on the door.

“Enter,” came Alfred's voice.

Tiger opened the door slowly, in case it made noise. It didn't.

Dick was sitting up, cross-legged in the middle of the bed with a pile of pillows supporting his back. He smiled over at Tiger, eyes bright despite the dark circles beneath them, and his lips were almost symmetrical now. Tiger breathed a sigh of relief, a little louder than he had intended.

Alfred passed Dick a child's drinking cup, the kind with handles on each side and a spouted lid for drinking. Tiger had forgotten the word people used for it. Something childlike, fitting given its usual purpose.

Dick took a sip, holding it by the handles with both hands. “Ah, water. How I missed ye.” He patted the end of the end with his right foot. Or, well, he attempted to. It wiggled more than anything. Dick glared at it and repeated the motion more successfully with his left. “Sit with me?”

Tiger sat on the spot Dick had indicated. “You look better.”

“Head's still pounding and my right limbs still kinda hate me, but yeah. I don't feel like I'm dying anymore.” He smiled over at Alfred. “I'm okay, Alf. You should get some sleep.” He set the cup down in what looked like a custom-made cupholder on a trolley that also carried a heart rate monitor. Then he wiggled his left pointer finger, which had a clamp linking him to the machine. “You'll know if I need you.”

“A few more tests, sir.” Alfred brandished a ruler.

Dick groaned. “Spoiler alert: my reflexes still suck.”

Alfred rounded the bed and held the ruler in the air, a small camera in the other hand. “One more time.”

Dick sighed and held out his right hand. Alfred dropped the ruler. Dick missed grabbing it entirely.

“Your reflexes have improved slightly,” Alfred said, crossing to input the data into the computer. “We will test you again in the morning. Master Tiger, do you intend to remain here tonight?”

Tiger would prefer that, but felt strange asking.

“I'd like you to,” Dick said. That made it easier.

“I will,” Tiger said.

Alfred ducked into another section of the med bay, pushing a screen aside. He pulled out a second bed on wheels and dragged it to the other side of the heart rate monitor. Separate out of necessity due to the medical equipment and access in the event of an emergency, but close enough that Tiger would be in Dick's space enough to go back to sleep.

Alfred stole one of Dick's pillows for the bed. Dick only complained for a few seconds. Alfred checked the vitals on the monitor, made Dick drink some more water, and then left them for the night.

“He has an alarm system in his room that'll let him know if I need help,” Dick said. “I'll be fine. I promise.”

“I thought you were going to die,” Tiger found himself admitting, not entirely of his own volition. He had not intended to say that to someone recovering from hours of pain.

“Me too,” Dick said quietly. Tiger squeezed his knee, but his awkwardness probably made it less of a comforting gesture and more... discomforting.

“Can you sleep?”

“I think so. I dozed off a bit while the migraine was screaming at me, so now should be easy. Comparatively.” He nudged Tiger with his good foot. “Get in bed. You look dead.”

“Flattering.” Tiger climbed into the other bed, which was surprisingly sturdy under his weight. Everything in here had to support Bruce's bulk, so he shouldn't have been surprised. Medical equipment was not often built to accommodate Tiger in either height or weight. He actually broke a stretcher once. Before Dick's time in Spyral, fortunately, or he never would have heard the end of it. Alia been bad enough, teasing him for...

And now he had made himself sad again.

Dick reached over with his heart-monitor-wearing hand, nudging his face. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“I broke a stretcher once,” Tiger murmured. “Not on purpose. I was too heavy.”

“I believe it. I've seen Bruce break chairs by sitting on them.”

Tiger found a smile working its way onto his face, despite everything. “Alia saw the whole thing. She teased me for weeks.”

“You miss her.”

“Mm.” Tiger was beginning to regret opening his mouth.

“That's okay, you know. You're allowed. Double agent or not, you still spent a lot of time with her.” Dick lay down, nudging Tiger's hand until he took the hint and laced their fingers together. “Remember the good stuff. I know she cared about you at some point. Nearly ripped my face off after the Old Gun mission when you had to go in and save my ass without sniper support.”

Maybe Tiger was not regretting opening his mouth so much. He leaned down and kissed Dick's fingers. It felt good to do that. They didn't have to hide how they felt anymore.

“No one is completely good or completely evil,” Dick said. “Remember the good in Alia. Remember how she was, not what she became. Even if she did try to frame me for murder a little bit.” He laughed, a little sheepishly. “Anyway. People are complicated. I've lost people who I had complicated relationships with. Dwelling on the bad doesn't help.”

“You should have been a grief counselor,” Tiger told him.

“Hey, I'm still young. Anything could happen.” Dick grimaced. “I'm not sure I'm ever gonna be Nightwing again, so... may as well explore my options.” He huffed out a breath and pasted a smile on his face. “Whatever. Not gonna think about that now. Happy thoughts, eh?”

“Yes. Happy thoughts.” Tiger desperately needed that, and he sensed Dick did, too. “I'm proud of you. For holding up so well against Bannon.”

Dick shrugged his left shoulder. “Necessity makes heroes of us all.”

“I admire your bravery. Do not diminish what you did.”

“Okay, okay. I'm awesome. I admit it. You were pretty darn good in there, too.”

Tiger didn't think he was, but it was nice to hear. “I... thank you.”

“I'm serious. That shit was rough.” Dick's thumb rubbed against Tiger's nearest finger. “We're gonna need time to deal with that. I'm just glad we're together now.” He grinned, but it slipped off his face immediately. “Ooh. Ow. I hurt myself smiling.”

Tiger held back his laughter, because it really wasn't funny.

“Oh, come on,” Dick said. “You can laugh. I certainly can't. Let me live vicariously through you.”

Tiger snorted.

“Eh, that'll do.”

Dick's aggressive positivity certainly helped wipe away the last traces of dream anxiety. Tiger nuzzled into his pillow, smiling over at this wonderful man, this cheerful force only a few hours removed from a torture chamber and yet burning so brightly as if he had never suffered a moment in his life. That was true bravery. His heart was burning with love. Or, he hoped it was love. He hadn't eaten enough for indigestion, surely.

“Jaanaana—”

Dick cut him off. “You know, you promised to explain what that meant once we were free.”

“Oh. Uh.” Tiger coughed nervously. He was not the type to cough nervously—who did that?—but apparently he was now. “Would you like me to...”

“I'd love you to. I've been dying of curiosity.” He snickered the tiniest bit. “Ow. Please tell me before I hurt myself doing basic human things again.”

Tiger had to take a few breaths before he had enough air to speak. “Oh. It, uh... it means _my love_. Or _my beloved_. It depends on the translation. I... it slipped out one day and...”

“Oh my God.” Dick was grinning again. “Smiling hurts a whole lot right now but I can't stop. That's so... I love it. I love you. Please keep calling me that.”

“I intend to.”

“Aww. You're so sweet.”

“Hardly.”

“Yes, you are. You're not allowed to argue with the injured guy.”

Tiger laughed, muffling it in his pillow in case the sound was too much for Dick. “Very well. I am sweet. _You_ , however, are the sweetest.”

“Oh, stop. You're just spoiling me now. And I haven't even come up with a petname for you yet.”

“Please don't.”

“Hey, we can't let this be one-sided. I feel mean letting you shower me with affection while I sit here like, _yeah thanks_. Come on. Be a sport.”

Tiger could not deny Dick anything right now. Or ever, really.

Dick pulled his blankets up with his weak hand, even laughing a little bit at his struggle. He'd managed to get it to grip the fabric before Tiger could offer assistance.

Then Dick sighed, his eyelids visibly heavy. “I'm glad you came down here. I missed sleeping next to you.”

“As did I.” Tiger leaned over to give Dick's fingers one last kiss. “And I love you, too. Very much.”

They didn't need to say more. Dick fell asleep first, finally giving in to his exhaustion. Tiger watched him for a while, finding comfort in every rise and fall of his chest, every soft breath filling the air.

Fingers still loosely tangled with Dick's, Tiger fell into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in months.

* * *

Dick woke, feeling distinctly hungover with a brain full of cotton wool, to find Tiger curled up on his side. Eyes open. Watching him. Dick caught a moment of softness before Tiger registered he was awake and climbed out of bed.

“I should call Alfred.”

“Chill for a sec.” Dick rubbed his face, sleep still clinging to the corners of his mind. He wiggled the fingers on his right hand. They felt weak, but they were moving better.

Last night had sucked, except for those moments with Tiger. Dick didn't remember half of what he said—the memories lost to some kind of pain haze—but he did remember talking about Alia, and Tiger finally explaining what jaanaana meant. He just wanted a few seconds to let all that warmth wash over him again before reality set back in.

“Sit with me?” he asked. “Just for a bit?” He shuffled more to his left. “These things can take both our weight. Bruce and Jason tested them together in a rare show of familial unity.”

Tiger gave him a look that was simultaneously affectionate and exasperated—he hadn't quite guarded himself yet but it wouldn't be long—and slid into bed beside him. It was a tight fit, not exactly comfortable, but Dick couldn't have given less of a shit if he'd tried.

“Hi, stranger,” he said, just so Tiger would give him that look again.

Tiger held himself up on one elbow and played with Dick's fingers in his free hand. “I know you did not hit your head that hard last night.”

“I do have some great swiss cheese pain memory going on, though.”

“Oh?”

“Don't worry, though. I remember the important stuff.”

“We have very different definitions of what is important.”

Dick grinned up at him, and it didn't hurt nearly as much as he feared it would. Progress. Tiger was playing with him, in his own way. They both knew what Dick meant.

Tiger ran the backs of his fingers along Dick's jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Kinda hungover, though.”

“...meaning?”

Right. Tiger didn't drink.

“Still kinda tired. Head's pounding. Maybe a little nauseous.” Dick was silently grateful Tiger hadn't been in the room when he was vomiting the previous night. He kept that to himself; he'd managed to keep some food down and use mouthwash between Tiger's two visits anyway. “Don't tell me you've never gotten hit in the face with, like, a sleeping drug and woken up like that.”

“Not recently.”

“Lucky you.”

Tiger smiled indulgently. Dick had half a mind to tease him about it, but it really was nice to see him looking so relaxed. Knowing Tiger, and the way he dealt with trauma, it wouldn't last. So Dick kept that to himself, too.

“Morning breath kiss?” he asked instead.

“Will you throw up on me?”

“Probably not?”

Tiger kissed his forehead instead. Dick found that an acceptable alternative. He could always pounce on him later.

“ _Now_ may I call Alfred?”

Dick sighed. “Oh, fine. He's gonna make me pee into a jar again. I mean, I definitely could pee a lot right now but I'm always worried I'm gonna miss.”

“Uh-huh.” Tiger slid off the bed. “Stay put. I do not trust you.”

Dick didn't trust himself, either. He lifted his right leg and rotated the foot. Moving okay, but he wasn't sure what would happen if he tried to stand on it.

Alfred arrived with a tray of fruits. Dick had a sudden urge to eat everything in sight.

“Take your time, sir,” Alfred warned. Dick munched on pieces of watermelon while Alfred stabbed him with needles.

Tiger got kicked out at some point during the examination process, which definitely did involve peeing into a jar. Well, a plastic cup. And more freaky brain-scanning machines.

Dick was sitting on the edge of the bed, working up the nerve to try standing while Alfred put data into the computer. Alfred seemed fairly confident Dick could stand, though he wasn't so sure about walking. Dick, for his part, was trying not to set himself up for disappointment.

Before he could bring himself to do it, though, there was a knock on the door. Dick and Alfred looked at each other. Dick shrugged.

“Enter,” Alfred said.

Bruce poked his head through the door. “How are we doing?”

“Well,” Dick said, “right now, I'm in shock that you actually knocked for once in your life.”

Bruce joined him on the bed. “Tiger warned me you were probably peeing into a jar.”

“Did he actually say _peeing_ , though?”

“No. Urinating.”

“That sounds more like him.”

Alfred finished with the computer. “Now, Master Dick, shall we try standing?”

“Do I _have to_?” Because joking about his fears sounded more appealing than actually facing them.

Bruce stood, offering his hand. “Come on. I'll help you up, just this once.”

“Ugh. _Fine_.” Dick grabbed it with his good hand, letting Bruce pull him up. He had to adjust his stance to put more weight on his left foot, but that was easy enough. That circus upbringing had given him a near-supernatural sense of balance. Thanks, Mum and Dad.

“Do you feel secure, sir?” Alfred asked.

“Relatively. Not sure I can walk without falling on my face, though.” He hobbled a step, half-expecting his right leg to crumble. It didn't, but it wobbled something awful.

“Very good,” Alfred said, typing something into the computer. “At this rate, sir, you should have sufficient mobility within a few more hours.”

Dick could've sank to the floor with relief, if Bruce hadn't chosen that moment to drag him in for a hug. Alfred had assured him repeatedly the symptoms were not permanent and typically disappeared within twenty-four hours, but there was definitely a part of him that feared he'd be stuck that way forever. He'd be (relatively) fine in a few hours, at least until the next attack. And he had no idea when that would be. They had as much data as they could find about that machine, but there was nothing like hands-on experience.

Was this simply a case of him developing a short-term tendency towards migraines? Would this become a chronic condition? Would he end up being more or less sensitive than the average migraine-sufferer who developed their condition due to natural causes? The unknowns were freaking him out a little bit.

Bruce squeezed him but didn't offer any verbal assurances. He didn't typically offer platitudes. Unknowns freaked him out, too. At least Dick could trust him to be honest. He wasn't the type to sugar-coat things for the sake of people's feelings.

Alfred placed a spiral-bound notebook with a pen in the binding onto Dick's bed. “Now, Master Dick. You will need to track your symptoms and triggers.”

“I'm right-handed, Alf.”

Bruce stepped back from the hug, raising an eyebrow. “Did I not teach you how to write left-handed?”

“Oh, you did. I just hate it.” Dick had been trained to do pretty much everything with his non-dominant hand. Writing was still unpleasant, though.

Alfred sighed. “You may ask someone to write for you, if you must. Light and sound appear to be common triggers among the machines' victims.”

“So no going outside without cool shades. Check.”

“Dick.” Bruce almost managed to sound stern. Impressive, really.

“I've had a bad week. Don't judge me.”

Alfred made him sit back down and suffer more tests and scans. He definitely wasn't getting out of here before lunch.

* * *

Tiger was glad to spend time praying with Damian at midday, for several reasons. First, of course, was the fact he simply liked praying. Second was the fact Damian was good, quiet company during this time. Third was unique. The entirety of Dick's family had not left him alone for more than a few moments today. He was flattered Dick's family cared enough that they kept seeking him out, but Tiger had never been a people person, even less so today. Dick was resting until lunch and Tiger had honestly hoped to have some time to himself.

So Tiger lingered on his favourite verses even after he had finished praying, sinking into the familiar text. Damian lingered beside him, even as he fidgeted.

“You can tell them to leave you alone,” Damian said. “Or I can do it.”

“No, I...” Tiger didn't want to reject their kindness. Stephanie had brought him _chocolate_ , of all things. No one did that. He and Dick didn't do gifts. It had seemed impractical for a long time. Maybe that could change now.

They were just trying to help. It was not their fault he needed some time alone with his thoughts.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Do you _like_ suffering?”

Sometimes Tiger honestly wondered if he did. He had lingered on his pain these past few months in a way he never had in the past. Maybe repression had been unhealthy, but wallowing was equally so, as well as impractical.

There was a balance. Why could he not find it? How did other people do it? Was there something wrong with him? And why was he having an (internalised) emotional breakdown because a child offered to help him?

He's been silent for too long. Damian made a kind of tutting sound Tiger had never heard another person do in all his years. Where did this child even get that from?

“I will tell them you leave you alone today, since you clearly cannot be trusted to interact with your fellow human beings.”

“You're not wrong,” Tiger said, closing his Quran. There was perhaps an hour until lunch. The sun was almost bright today and the gardens did not seem quite as rain-drowned as they usually did. Maybe a walk around the manor grounds would help him put his mind into working order.

He and Damian parted ways outside the room. Tiger put his Quran away and found a coat in Dick's closet. Tight around his shoulders, but it would do. Gotham weather was a liar. Even when it looked warm, even the slightest breeze would chill to the bone. He considered finding a beanie, but dismissed it as too dramatic.

Tiger hadn't had many opportunities to explore the gardens behind the manor. Bruce had not wanted him wandering unsupervised during his previous stay here. Dick had to fight just so Tiger could walk to a few set locations without a chaperone.

Well, Bruce wasn't here now, and Tiger was not above complaining to Dick if problems arose. He hurried down the back steps before Bruce could show up to stop him.

The climate rendered the back gardens of the manor especially green, though Tiger suspected it was not all in the hands of the weather. The lawns were even more manicured than St Hadrian's, which had been painfully immaculate. Tiger used to sneak off to find something that looked _real_.

He found himself wandering a sweet-smelling rose garden, separated from the grounds by dark metal fences. Gravel crunched underfoot, and that alone made him feel more alive than he had in months. Gravel. Really? Tiger decided not to linger on the thought.

The bushes were well-tended, but a little wilder than the rest of the grounds. Every colour imaginable was here, though the overall favourite seemed to be white. Those bushes were everywhere. They reminded Tiger of a funeral shroud.

He spotted a stone bench in the centre, surrounded by the gravel path. He leaned down to read an inscription: _For Martha_. That was the name of Bruce's mother, yes? Tiger suddenly wasn't so sure about sitting on the bench. Was it purely ornamental? Would it be disrespectful to sit on Bruce's dead mother's bench? Tiger didn't know the etiquette here.

He didn't know a lot of things.

“There you are.” Dick was leaning against the gate, a thick pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. “Dami said he spotted you out this way.”

“How did you get here?”

“I have to tell you something,” Dick said, too seriously to be real. Unless Tiger was making assumptions. “You see... that machine did something terrible.”

“Oh?” Best to take this seriously until he knew for certain.

“Yeah. I can't walk anymore. But it gave me some pretty sick invisible wings. You know... win some, lose some.”

Tiger tried not to sound too relieved as he replied, “But how will you fit into civilian society now?”

“Tim's making me some robot legs. I'll soon be a flying cyborg who gets hemiplegic migraines that may or may not be a long-term thing.” Dick pushed the gate open and limped through. “Just kidding. Except the migraines. Check out these cool shades.”

They looked like he had stolen them from a white middle-class great-grandmother. “Very cool, Dick.”

“I knew you'd like them. Alfred shone a flashlight in my face. It sucked. So he gave me these for going bright places.” He drew level with Tiger, leaning slightly to his left. “Don't tell Alfred I'm leaning. He'll smack me with a newspaper because I'm gonna give myself posture problems or something.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Dick lowered himself onto the bench. Tiger quickly followed suit. One question answered. Now if only everything else bothering Tiger could be resolved so easily...

“Is today a brooding day?” Dick said.

“I... what?”

Dick shook his head, smiling slightly. “Never mind. I'll save the teasing for Bruce. His reactions are funnier.” He lowered his voice to a respectable imitation of Bruce-as-Batman. “ _I do not brood, Robin._ ” He coughed, laughing through it. “Man, I haven't done that voice in a while. Should've gargled some gravel first. More authentic that way.”

“Your face looks better,” Tiger said. It... did not come out quite the way he had planned.

“Thanks. I powdered my nose just for you.”

“That's not what I—”

“I know what you mean, hon. You're right. The paralysis is dying down.” He wiggled his fingers. “Give me a few more minutes and maybe I can write in that nifty migraine journal Alfred gave me. Shame I won't have anything much to write until the next time my brain goes on strike like that.”

“You could write down the symptoms you remember.”

“I made Bruce take dictation for me already, even though he whined about it since he did technically train me to be ambidextrous. Mentioned everything I remember about last night.”

“Are the sunglasses helping?”

“Yeah. Just remind me not to stare directly at the sun.” The sunlight dimmed as clouds covered the sky. Dick looked upwards and snorted. “Not that there's much risk of that in Gotham.”

“Why does anyone want to live in this place?”

Dick shrugged. “Well, historically there was a reason. I don't remember what it was. Then people put down roots and didn't wanna leave. Now a lot of people come here for work, or stay because they've always lived here.”

“And you?”

“My family's here.” Dick rested his head on Tiger's shoulder. “I know it's hard to believe, given you and Bruce don't really get along, but he was there when my world fell apart. He took in a random kid from the circus because he knew exactly what I was going through. That's what he does. And, look, he has some pretty strong views on stuff like guns and killing, but he has a reason for that. I mean... I remember the first time I faced down a group of mob henchmen as Robin. The anger that boiled in me. They weren't the man who killed my parents, but they were cut from the same cloth, you know? Bruce is like that with guns. Plus, he gets protective of his kids. A random spy boyfriend who's shot people before? Hoo boy.”

“And yet you have fought with him. Over me.”

“Well, yeah. Just because I understand doesn't mean I can't see when he's being irrational.”

Tiger was unsure Bruce's problems with him were irrational at all. Here they were, pretending he hadn't helped Jason and Helena shoot Alia. Fatally. From where he was sitting, Bruce seemed like the only rational person in the world.

Dick reached up and kissed Tiger's neck. “Hey. Enough brooding, big guy.”

“I shot someone.” The words burst out of him, shaking through the air before he even realised his mouth was open.

“To save me.”

“ _I shot someone_.”

“You weren't the only one.”

“We are _lying about it_.”

“Because Bruce is not gonna be rational about this.”

“Are you defending what we did?” Tiger did not recognise the voice coming out of his mouth. This voice did not belong to him. Who _was he_ anymore?

“No. I don't like it. But I know why the three of you did it.” Dick squeezed Tiger's bicep. “And I'm grateful, okay? I'm alive because of that split-second decision. I'm in one piece, more or less, because of you.”

Tiger did not want to talk about this anymore. He did not want to examine his feelings about this. Too much confusion. Too much fear. Too much _everything_.

Relief came in Jason's shape, as he leaned over the fence to yell, “Hey, losers! Lunch is served.” Then he walked back up to the manor without waiting for them to follow him.

Dick grabbed Tiger's arm before he could move. “One second, gorgeous.”

“Are you testing petnames on me?” His voice still didn't sound quite right, but close enough that they could both ignore it.

“That obvious, huh?” Dick grabbed Tiger's chin. “Now our breath's better, I'd very much like to kiss you.”

Despite the bulky sunglasses and his questionable health, Dick pounced on him. Their lips locked. Tiger forgot about everything else. Including lunch.

It was anyone's guess how much time passed before Jason came back, yelling at them to come eat some sandwiches rather than each other's faces.

Dick laughed so hard he gave himself a minor headache, but insisted it was worth it.


End file.
